Tori and Tris
by secretkeeper0024
Summary: Tori is a resistance fighter, part of a secret alliance within Dauntless against their tyrannical Leadership Group. Tris is a struggling initiate with a powerful secret. With Eric stacking the deck against Tris, Tori provides with secret training sessions. Can Tori and the Alliance keep Tris alive long enough to pass the final test or will she lose the love of her life. Complete.
1. Chapter 1 - Just a bit

Tori and Triss

Chapter One - Aptitude Altitude

The first time I ever saw her, she had entered my cubicle to take her aptitude test. Shrouded in baggy grey robes, she looked impossibly young and skinny. She slinked nervously into the room, sticking by the wall, head down, eyes flitting around trying to identify possible threats to life. Like so many self effacing Abnegation, she wore her shoulders hunched as though standing tall was unnecessarily flamboyant, rather than just correct posture. She was confronted with endless, unavoidable images of her own reflection, that room is still covered in mirrors, God knows why! I am certain that it added to her distress that day, it would have been amusing if it hadn't been so very sad.

In all the time I have been processing these kids I have never grown unsympathetic to their circumstance. Not only Abnegation, but all of them, even the cocky Dauntless and arrogant Erudite. Sixteen year old kids are being funnelled into a lifelong choice based on the outcome of a random test they could in no way prepare for. Terrifying in itself, but add to the mix that many of them were on the cusp of leaving everyone and everything they have ever known. There was also fear, the weapon of choice of the tyrannical. Fear of failure; failing the test, failing to make the right choice, fear of becoming factionless, a fate worse than death. Many of them will avoid becoming factionless, but that is not the point, the point is fear.

Motioning her to the only chair in the room, I feel compelled to assure her that she is safe. "My name is Tori", I smile and hope that affords her some comfort, when she is seated, I start pressing electrodes to her forehead. Granted it is a confronting way to begin but it's a confronting process. She squeezes her eyes shut, perhaps against the light or maybe to distance herself from reality, I clip the end of the electrodes to a small portable contraption. I don't blame her, this whole cultish process is a rort anyway, not that she will ever know. One electrode goes on my temple and now we are all connected, forever bonded through the rituals of our culture. I look down at her and telepathically communicate _ignorance is bliss_.

I nudge her and she opens her eyes, I put into her hand a small glass vial containing a clear liquid and as she tips back her head she notices my neck tattoo. I can tell she wants to ask but Abnegation never do. "What is it?" she croaks, surprising the hell out of me. My eyes flick back to hers and I silently cheer - there is someone in there after all! Not that I find her particularly deficient, it's the system that reduces most of us to a bit. "It's an eagle," I explain, glad to find I was wrong about her, unable to recall her name, my eyes flick to the top of the screen, Beatrice. Beatrice Prior. "In parts of the ancient world the red eye signifies the sun," I smile at her, "I figured having the sun at my back would help me through dark times." She nods sleepily at my explanation, which she will never know is only partly true.

I watch with my mind's eye; for me it unfolds as a film starring Beatrice Prior as she interacts with various stimuli in a range of settings, for her it is a first person simulated reality. The data gleaned from her responses and choices are recorded and analysed. As she proves unsuited for a particular faction, the simulation automatically eliminates testing criteria for that faction. The sim continues until suitability for one faction is determined. At least that is what they would have us believe and that is the way the program was designed to work.

In any case, citizens may choose to join any faction, regardless of test results and faction of origin. Personally, I think that's just an out; when individuals don't fit so neatly into the model or if anyone were ever to suggest that the faction system is limited - the government, or the powers that be, could legitimately claim that you failed to heed your test results.

I notice a problem early on in Beatrice's simulation, but firstly I don't want to jump to conclusions and, secondly I am hoping that what is about to happen, does not. Shit, this is not good. I look down at this poor wretch of a girl, I watch as her closed eyes reveal urgent activity beneath. I lean forward and touch her face, I don't know why. I feel an inexplicable sort of kinship with her that I know does not exist, can not exist, perhaps it is simply a wish for the power to intervene in her destiny.

No use delaying the inevitable - I rip off my wire and tug hers off only slightly less roughly, I punch the machine off and rouse Beatrice. "Am I done?" she asks, fighting to regain her senses. "All done, little one," I lie, tugging her to her feet, she is still groggy and I use this to my advantage. As I shepherd her toward the exit, she asks "What was my result?" Damn, Damn. "Abnegation" I lie again, trying to get her to the door. "No, No," she is determined that could not be her result, she plants herself in the doorway with surprising determination and her eyes bore into mine, trying to uncover the truth as surely as I am trying to bury it. This lamb sure has spunk, I can't help but think, I feel a sort of pride in her.

"What is my result?" she asks a second time and my resolve evaporates. "Abnegation. And Dauntless and Erudite." I choke out the words, looking down at my feet, unwilling to be the one to lay upon her such a heavy, and dangerous, burden. "The test is supposed to tell me which faction I am suited to?" It's spoken as a statement but she is really asking me a question. I take a deep breath, trying to work out what to reveal and what to conceal. "That is the way the program is designed," I say, "but your results are inconclusive. It happens sometimes. People like you are called Divergent".

"Divergent," she repeats stupidly. "You can't tell anyone, Beatrice, not ever." I take both her hands and look back at her, trying to impress upon her the gravity of the situation. She is shaking her head in denial, "I don't understand, the test is supposed to tell me which faction to choose," I see her fear, it's the same basic fear we all have. We each think of ourselves as unique, disconnected from each other. We understand our experiences as personal rather than universal and therefore our interpret our fear as though it applies to us, alone.

We can all choose to join any of the five factions, however we often only consider two; the one indicated by test results and our faction of origin. For Beatrice, her test results have left her field of options wide open with all five options - the same five options as everyone else. But she can't see this right now, understandably so, she is overwhelmed and without a policy or procedure by which to systematically narrow her options. I know this would make her feel safer. And due to the permanent and imminent nature of the decision, Beatrice is experiencing acute distress.

I don't even attempt to communicate all of this to her, my time is limited. I am already concerned for her safety and want to get her the hell away from this building as quickly as possible. "What should I do?" she asks me. It's an awful question, one only ever asked by the desperate because for the most part we fight like hell to retain our autonomy. On the one hand we all need advice and support, on the other hand I have like 10 seconds before I have to literally shove her out the door, and on the other hand - believe me I know how many hands I am supposed to have, she absolutely can not tell another living soul!

"The best thing to do would be to stay in Abnegation. I'm sorry, Beatrice, I don't know what else to tell you. Go straight home and remember -" she cuts me off "I know, don't tell anyone." The way she says it reminds me of a stubborn child but where I expect to see fear and loss, I see a steely resolve. Or perhaps that is just what I want to see. I shut the door on her and set my back against it, "God speed".


	2. Chapter 2 - Choosing Ceremony

Tori and Triss - Chapter Two - Choosing Ceremony

Tori is a resistance fighter, part of a secret alliance within Dauntless against their tyrannical Leadership Group. Tris is a struggling initiate with a powerful secret. With Eric stacking the deck against Tris, Tori provides Tris with secret training sessions. Can Tori and the Alliance Tori keep her alive long enough to pass the final test or will she lose the love of her life.

Chapter Two - Choosing Ceremony

I hope I don't see Beatrice at the Choosing Ceremony, in fact I wish I would never see her again. Truth be told I have seen enough of her in my memories and my dreams - she was my first thought when I woke up too. I kept replaying various parts of our conversation on a loop, deleting comments I now think were less helpful and adding in things I wish I had said. She was such a surprising mix of submissive defiance, I have to admit I liked her.

I still hope she will choose Abnegation, it is her best chance of remaining undetected, and I hope she will be happy there. I don't know why I think that. After all, I'm not happy, I don't know of anyone who is. But still, I hope she is. I arrive at The Hub apparently fashionably late. The older I get the more cynical I become about politics and the tactics employed to reinforce its legitimacy. The speeches and ceremonial bull shit are nothing more than authoritarian nationalistic fetish porn. I am either less able, or less willing, to tolerate such propaganda and increasingly unable to keep my internal dialogue - well, internal.

I hide in the shadows at the back of the Dauntless section, clapping quietly for our new members, already prepared to love them. My body goes rigid as the name Prior is called out, a knot tightens in my stomach. I see him stand, a tiny grey wave against an ocean of various shades of grey, must be her brother. I see him reluctantly drop the hand of his sister and it makes me happy to think they might have been close. I am reminded of Georgie. Caleb is taller, darker and more sturdy than his sister, but he too is skinny. He takes endless sideways steps, like a crab, to reach the middle aisle. He strides purposefully to the front, he takes the ceremonial knife, cuts in his hand and lets his blood fall into a bowl of water. Erudite.

I happily presume that this defection will close the door on any ideas his sister may harbour of defecting, keeping her safe with her family in Abnegation. Beatrice's name is called, I shiver involuntarily. I see her rise, her mother and father stand to let her pass, patting her back and stroking her arm as she passes. She has none of her brother's confidence, she takes forever to reach the front, I find myself silently chanting 'Abnegation, Abnegation'. Her shaking hand reaches for the knife, she makes the cut and holds out her dripping fist wavering between various bowls. I mentally repeat 'Grey Stone, Grey Stone', willing her to make the smart choice, the safe choice.

The room is silent and I swear I hear the hiss of liquid hit hot coals. Dauntless. Beatrice has also defected, I suddenly feel very cold and empty. They will find out about her here. A cheer goes up as Dauntless welcomes our newest initiate, I take advantage of the ruckus and slip over the back of the rail and head discretely for the exit. It is the worst choice she could have made, they will find out about her here and kill her. The only way I can think to mitigate the devastation I feel is to shrug my shoulders and pretend that this is an event of little significance, that it happens all the time and remind myself that I don't even know the kid.

I have to get back to Dauntless, I have work to do. I stuff my hands deep into my pockets and decide to think no further about the girl. I walk purposefully from The Hub toward the railway lines, I shinny up a pylon without raising a sweat, pop aboard a slow rolling train and ride back to Dauntless. The facility was unusually desolate, read creepy, given that most everybody was at the Choosing ceremony. I take this rare opportunity to be alone and stocktake the tattoo parlour store room, afterward I meet some of the Dauntless Leadership Group for a drink at the bar and listen to the news of the day.

I like to refer to this period as peak trade - it's when all the newbies arrive at the compound and the new adults from our own faction combine as brothers and sisters to form their own cohort. The practical consequence of a new cohort is an increased demand for clothing, food, weapons, ammo, first aid supplies, you name it we need it. It's a period of increased activity for all and particularly fraught for our new initiates. Many of them are scared shitless, homesick, desperate to fit in, they have no baseline level of fitness and no defensive skills at all. They are often physically and emotionally strung out, and can be seen running from the pit to the first aid quarter, to stores and back to the pit hiding injuries and hoping to remain undetected. At meal times they dont talk much, they don't know anyone and are too busy ramming food down their throats, hitting the communal showers and falling onto their cots.

I attend regular leadership meetings bodily but my heart isn't in it, luckily there is enough testosterone at present to render my disinterestedness invisible. Sadly, we are divided amongst ourselves. On the surface it may appear that the old guard opposes the new - but the conflict is not nearly so neat. Tensions are less obvious than they are real and very dangerous. The new agenda has almost completely supplanted the old, establishing a cultural shift featuring unnecessary and unpleasant competition and bullying. In this environment, the sense of family that once characterised Dauntless has eroded and we have been reduced to fearful, silent individuals rather than various tightly knit, allied kinship groups.

I care deeply. As a Dauntless transfer, I had been afforded a generous welcome. I had been trained to a very high standard in an encouraging environment, my abilities had been carefully developed and I had been groomed for leadership. Dauntless are my family - a rather dysfunctional family at present, granted. More than my life, I value the idea of handing on to future generations, that same Dauntless spirit that had been handed to me. I haven't given up, and I won't. I still don't have a clear plan but I plan to continue to resist.

The new crew relies too heavily on intimidation and brute strength to secure their objectives and agenda. Team meetings are less an opportunity for discussion than as an exercise in administrative exploitation, where roles with access to power and prestige are hoarded and undesirable tasks are forced upon those considered expendable. The big boys who think they run this joint assume the real currency is force - overt or implied, but if there is one thing I understand about this racket - it's the value of friendship. My primary objectives are to keep the old Dauntless traditions alive, I covertly keep up old friendships and surreptitiously cultivate new ones. I also try to keep my head down.

All but a few of the oldest friendships have slowly become tainted by fear and suspicion and frequently just plain fatigue. I've never been one to wish I could do my youth over again and thank god for that, it was hard enough to do with friends let alone in this sterile environment. I have worked very hard for a long time to grease my own wheels, I have forged deep bonds with key people and I am highly respected by the people who really count - members of Dauntless. No one watching would pick them, but we are the backbone of this faction and we will be here to put it back together when these egomaniacs have lost their heads.

Case in point; a new rule change was announced, not discussed, it will see the least successful initiates cut from Dauntless. That's right - cut, forcibly ejected from our family and made free to join the Factionless. If it wasn't for the distress this new rule caused all but a few initiates, and the devastation it will cause a small number of initiates I would actually rather enjoy it. The new rule actually undermines the whole faction system, an argument I have only ever dared make within the confines of my own mind. This pathetic, hypermasculine culture was unpleasant, unnecessary and served to erode loyalty to both the faction and to each other.


	3. Chapter 3 - Becoming a mark

Chapter Three - Becoming a mark

I have only seen her in passing this first week. By the weekend I am working extra shifts in the tattoo parlour, it was generally a busy weekend as Initiates were finding their feet and feeling pretty celebratory having survived their first week. Music was pumping loudly and I was provided a few concealed bevys by a friend who was tending bar, it hardly felt like work to be fair. I was packing up after providing a young chap with his first marks and turned to find her standing directly behind me, her back to me, she was looking over some artwork.

I swallow hard and turn back around, I think I was going to pretend to be busy. What the hell? My whole behaviour to this girl has been at odds - first I become over involved and now I want to pretend like she doesn't exist. At first I assumed that the queasy feeling in my gut was a mixture of compassion and admiration for the girl, but her sudden, unexpected and close proximity had produced the same result. Oh, I've been here before, I realise. I've got a crush on a baby initiate, who's half my age, hilarious. It's been a good long while since I have had a crush, I shake my head and force myself to turn back.

I note how different she looks, already she has lost the stooping posture. Her grey garb has been traded for Dauntless black, more than that, her dress actually fit her body and her shiny hair hung loosely in waves over her shoulders. "Beatrice?" I ask, trying to muster a friendly smile "I didn't think I would see you again." She turned to me and smiled back, "It's just Tris now," she informs me. "Nice to see you, Tori. Do you work here?" I notice she has applied some makeup and looks older, softer and really quite pretty.

"I work various jobs, but I'm rarely far from the office," I shrug, gesturing that by 'office' I mean the parlour, "Tris - that's nice. Say, you were the first jumper?" Tris blushed and looked modestly down, she confirmed my charge with a shy smile. Oh, she was cute as a button. "Can we catch up sometime? I want to ask you about some stuff?" she asks discreetly. "How about some permanent art instead?" It just isn't safe to talk about what I knew was on her mind. Tris selects a small flying bird image, she wants three and describes the flight path from her collar bone to her heart.

I take her to a chair in the back and invite her to sit back, an act which reminds us both of our first meeting and we smile at each other. "I'm going to need access to your skin," I tuck my index finger into the shoulder of her dress and give a slight tug. She blushes easily and it's quite endearing. "Oh, of course, I'm not thinking." she turns to the side and I slide the zip down probably further than was necessary - she is not the only one not thinking. She snakes one arm out of the sleeve and with the other she holds the dress against her cleavage, and I'm reminded of her Abnegation roots.

As I draw her birds, I notice bruises on her arm. I ask her how her training is going, she unconsciously flexes her fingers and I see her bruised knuckles, the crevices still home to dried blood remnants. She cracks an eye and discharges a long sigh, "Well, I can't shoot, if I launch my whole body weight at the punching bag it barely moves and everything part of my body hurts. But I'm going to make it Tori, see if I don't." I smile at her admiringly and keep drawing, "I believe you, Tris." I was an Erudite transfer, almost as skinny as Tris and surely as weak, granted my cohort was not threatened with permanent faction eviction, but I had worked damn hard to embody the Dauntless physicality. If I can do it, so can she. It occurs to me that I could chat Four up and get the goss on the newbies, not that I think Tris is misrepresenting her situation, but it always pays to be in the know.

After work on Sunday, I head to the bar, takeaways are forbidden but I have no trouble arranging for four beers to be wrapped in newspaper, packed into a bag and stashed with security at the front door. When I leave, security calls me back and reminds me that I had forgotten my bag - all part of appropriate smuggling etiquette, security is in the know about when it is safe to risk such transactions. If it had not been safe, my beers would have made their way to my room within the hour. And all without me having to threaten anyone!

I make my way to Four's room,I take the long way round, looking over my shoulder, and give him the _friendly_ knock. I am from a much earlier cohort, but Four has proved to be a good egg and is accepted and trusted by our fragile alliance, unlike Eric who is a very different fish. Me and mine have very little to do with him. I lean against the door frame and wonder if Four is out, I am deciding whether to knock a second time or come back later when his large wheeled door grinds horizontally open. "Tori!" he greeted me happily, I lift my bag for his notice and say "Hey Four, have you time to check out my cargo?" He grins at me.

We always sit out on his terrace when I come over, probably because I enjoy a smoke on the weekend. I dig out two bottles and twist the lids off, careful to stow such evidence back in my bag, I hand one to Four as he slouches into the chair next to mine. He takes a long swig from his bottle and gives a long mmmmm of appreciation, "Work or pleasure?" Four gives me the reverse single nod (up instead of down). "Mostly pleasure, with just a pinch of sticky beaking," I smile. "I thought as much," he grinned, he knows me too well.

I flipped off my runners and put my feet up on the railing that runs the perimeter of the patio. "How's tricks?" he asks me. I blow a cloud of smoke up over the rail and we watch it dissipate in the evening air, "I've survived peak trade" I reply, "You?" He shakes his head, "Still knee deep, I'm afraid." I nod, understanding. The initiates still had weeks and weeks of training ahead of them and that would keep Four busy. "What are they like, this cohort?" I ask. Four considered his answer, "Initiates are much the same from year to year, I find, but" He gives me a knowing look, "implications of the new training program, ratchets up initiate requirements. It gives the illusion that initiates are of increasingly inferior quality." I nod again. "I was first in my cohort, but there was not such a gap between me and the next one. There was a camaraderie amongst us, we worked together and helped each other. Trainers worked with initiates to overcome their weaknesses, there wasn't this fear of getting cut. The smaller ones are getting smashed in fight club." He sighed and sipped, he is preaching to the converted as my silence confirms.

"Eric?" I ask quietly, "... and Max and the freedom fighters," he confirms, nothing more need be said. Actually, this is an unusually frank discussion, neither of us would risk such disclosures to anyone else. I tried to think of a way to bring up Tris indirectly but I can't be bothered to work that hard, so I just asked him straight out. "What can you tell me about Tris Prior?" "Aah, the object of your sticky beak?" he raised an eyebrow. I flashed him some side eye and replied "Indeed." He shook his head as he considered my request for information.

"You know how to pick them," He finally commented, "She's a little champion, I will give you that." "She is struggling to convert that to points on the board." I point out, draining my bottle and returning it to the bag. I dig out the other two beers, unwrap them glad they are still cold, I open one and pass it to Four, "Thanks," he pops his empty in my bag. "She is awfully skinny and weak, she has zero fitness and I am surprised her core muscles can even support her to stand upright. But she trains every chance she gets, first down in the morning, last to retire at night, she took a rather brutal beating and was straight back at it."

"Is that what you wanted to know?" Four asked after a beat. "I wanted to know the truth, I just wish it wasn't that. Has she _any_ strengths?" I ask, concerned at this rather grim picture. "Hmmm, she isn't terrible at knife throwing and I'm sure her weapons capabilities can improve." I sighed unhappily and asked "Is she going to make it?" It's a hard question, but it's possible I am nursing a far harder one. "There is something," Four began, he leans forward, elbows on his knees, "But it's complicated." "Go on," I urge him, feeling a sliver of hope. "She is fast, if she went on the attack, I am confident she could score some points." "But…" I nudge him. "She is an Abnegation transfer." "Aah," I say, registering the point. "Precisely," he smiles grimly.


	4. Chapter 4 - Getting what we need

Tori and Tris - Chapter Four - Getting what we need

Whilst administering Tris's aptitude test, I had been unable to intervene, but there was definitely something I could do now. At breakfast on Monday, I scan the rows of faces until I find hers and wait around by the slop bins - uggh, the things I do for initiates! I _accidentally_ bump into her, "Hi Tris, I was hoping to run into you, could you come by the shop tonight, I need to check your art?" She looked at me in that peircing way, and finally said "Yeah, sure." I smiled, turned on my heel and put some serious distance between me and that slop bin.

That night, Tris hung around looking at various works while I finished up with a customer, as soon as I could, I took her to the same chair in the back, this time she remembered to remove her clothing and I looked over the work. "This looks really good, healing well, nice choice" I say, applying some oils to aid in the healing process. Knowing she would prefer to be covered, I indicate that I am finished and scoot back on my wheelie work stool. As she threads her arm back into her sleeve, I ask " How's training going?" Tris appears put on the spot, "I'm working really hard," she stammers. "Are you under or over the red line?" I ask directly, watching her closely. "Under." she ducks her head. "You need help," I say not unkindly, it's not a question, and she nods mutely. "When's good for you?"

Tris followed my detailed directions precisely; she arrived on time, tapped out the friendly knock, let herself in quietly and shut the door immediately. No doubt this is a dangerous undertaking, life and death if I am honest. Less so mine - than hers. It's a responsibility I take very seriously. It is blatantly obvious that Eric has taken a serious dislike to Tris and was stacking the deck against her in an attempt to keep her rankings low. The guy is a psychopath, with no honour, and no appreciation for Dauntless tradition. An Erudite transfer lured to Dauntless by a desire for violence and and a lust power, he would consider any assistance as a personal affront, and herein lies the danger. Although confident I can handle Eric, it must be on my own terms. And Tris must be protected.

I know that Tris has an Ace up her sleeve that has the potential to rocket her well up the leaderboard, something that no one knows about, least of all Tris. Of course, Aces are always handy but their real value lies in knowing how and when to play them - luckily for Tris, I know how to play! I have arranged to train her in my studio, where I myself train. The immediate risk is in the two of us being associated together, but once within, we are perfectly safe. I turn the lock and set to play my own training soundtrack and raise the volume. My neighbours are well used to my noise and will suspect nothing.

I begin by stating the immediate problem as I see it; a lack of fitness, strength and hand to hand skill, and outline a possible solution, gaining fitness, strength and skill. Obvious, I know, but taking the role of sort of mentor I feel obliged to impart proficiency in strategy as well as discrete skills. I encourage her to let go of her Abnegation values and embrace her inner Dauntless - she did choose us after all. Time is short and she is sorely in need of leaderboard points, not too many, but enough to keep her off of the bottom. She understands the strategy and commits to our plan. We get to work immediately.

I show Tris a single choreographed basic offensive routine with two alternating footwork patterns and I drill her in first one, then the other, making her do it over and over again. She is a good student. I coach her breathing, core strength and weight distribution and she soaks it all in, she mimics my footwork closely. I know she wants this. Most people would be focussed on memorising the routine as though a perfect rendition would ensure success but Tris understands the transferrable value of controlling her breathing, core strength and weight distribution through the routine. Four was right, she is a pocket rocket, she keeps working and doesn't get frustrated. I know why Eric hates her.

I am careful not to overwork her, or indeed, let her overwork herself, the last thing she needs is an injury. I poured her a tonic to replace her electrolytes, and gave her half of a little something to take back to the dormitory to help her sleep. I am sure she needs it. I caution her to conceal her new skills in practice, to save it for fight club. "Remember, we are short on time and need to apply leaderboard pressure, but strategically." "We?" She shot me a look over her shoulder. I placed my hand on her back, "When I joined Dauntless, Tris, we were a we! You are doing really well, I am proud of you," and sent her home to bed. I showered and hopped into bed myself.

We will have to discuss Tris' Divergent nature before the third phase of training. I am going to have to explain it to her comprehensively, school her to obscure and manage her abilities. She will come to appreciate the associated benefits and dangers of her nature. I decide to hold off - I do not want to over burden her, she has enough on her plate as it is. Besides, phases one, two and three are so labelled for a reason, no need to get ahead of ourselves. I approve of Four's advice to Tris about delivering a quick punch to the throat to incapacitate opponents in Fight Club; I have to find a way to subdue her Abnegation and draw out her Dauntless.

Tris arrived punctually for training every night. We stretched out and warmed up on the mats together, she kept me abreast of what they had done each day and then I drilled her in the routine. It has to become muscle memory, a stance that Tris would find herself unconsciously adopting under the influence of exhaustion, fear, pain or injury. After a rehydration break, I propose a sparring session where the object was for Tris to embody as much of the base routine as she felt appropriate whilst seeking opportunities to punch me in the throat. She could not bring herself to do it, as I knew she could not.

On Thursday, I started the session by turning on a pretty impressive display of my advanced physical abilities; I completed one routine after another demonstrating my fitness, flexibility and stamina through a range of defensive and offensive gymnastic, kickboxing and mixed martial arts maneuvers. Ten minutes of that and even Tris was out of breath! She had backed up well clear of my expanded personal space, mouth open and eyes open even wider. It was not to show off but to convince Tris that I had nothing to fear from her, if I happened to enjoy her obvious appreciation well, consider it an added bonus.

"Wow, that was amazing," said Tris approvingly. "Now, about that punch to the throat," I spoke when I could finally breathe, I chugged some water, "_If _you can get past my defences, _if _you can reach my throat _and_ _if_ you could hit me with any degree of force - I would deserve it. Ok?" "Ok," nodded Tris. Of course, she would not be able to raise any level of threat that I could not anticipate and immediately eliminate, but what we have achieved is that Tris has accepted that a punch to the throat was now an viable action.

On Friday after our warm up and routine work, Tris adopted her basic stance and attempted various strategies to come at me again and again. I intervened from time to time to correct her foot work, to point out her tells, to point out mine. I encourage her, praise her thinking, she has a great many personal qualities that are perfectly Dauntless, I had been quite mistaken to suggest Tris remain in Abnegation. As my mind wandered, I over enthusiastically knocked Tris on her ass, much harder than I intended. It was the first time she openly acknowledged pain, wincing as she hauled herself up. "Oh no, you are hurt" I helped her up, annoyed at my own carelessness. Tris denied any pain, shaking her head and sucking in her breath, but knowing better I held her by her upper arms and forced her to acknowledge, "Where?" I asked, peering into her eyes.

She rolled a shoulder and groaned, I turned her around and explored her shoulder - nothing serious thank god. "Shit, Tris, I am so sorry, I wasn't concentrating. Jump in the shower, I have some ointment I can apply that will really help." I went into the ensuite and turned on the shower, silencing the denial I knew was coming, I found some fresh clothes and a towel and steered her toward the bathroom. I turned down the pounding music, made myself busy at the far end of the studio, filling the kettle and listening for the click of the bathroom door.

I pulled on fresh clothes, myself, and prepared some tea. When Tris came out of the bathroom fully dressed, shoes and all, I couldn't help but smile internally at her modesty. I sat on the floor against the foot of my bed and indicated she should take her place between my legs. I gently pulled her top over her head and down her arms a little way so that it would cover her breasts and stomach. I hand her the tea and apply a generous amount of expensive black market ointment across her neck, shoulders and upper back. I massage Tris' neck gently, warming and slowly lengthening the muscles and continued to work over the various knots.

Saturday morning I wake up to a wonderful sunshiney morning, stretching and feeling unusually excellent. It occurs to me that I am fully dressed, including socks and laying on top of the bed covers. That's weird. I suddenly remembered. I sniff cautiously at my fingers yep - ointment. I turn over searching the other side of my bed, sure enough the rather lumpy figure of Tris is curled up under a pile of linen and blankets. I check my watch and smile to myself, feeling very happy and content. I fill the kettle and set it to boil, trying to be quiet.

I fix two strong coffees and leave one on the bedside table for Tris, I take mine over to a well worn recliner facing a large open window. I had slept later than my regular routine but I had also been working harder than normal so… I sipped my coffee and watched the tops of the huge green trees swaying in the breeze, I notice again a rather joyful feeling residing in my chest. Sensing I was no longer alone, I look over my shoulder toward the bed and see Tris sitting with her face in her hands.

"Good morning," I call across the room. Tris peeks out between her fingers like a small child, I don't know why it is so endearing, but it is. I remember that she is only just sixteen, her first week away from home, everything is so new for her. "You ok?" I ask, smiling warmly and sipping from my mug. "I didn't know I fell asleep. Here." "It's ok," I try to reassure her, "How's your shoulder?" Tris rolled her shoulders and a bright smile covered her face - it warmed my heart. "I slept really well, your bed is so comfortable," She began extracting herself from the blankets. How she could sleep with all those clothes on and under that great pile of blankets is beyond me.

Tris brought her mug over to my recliner, I shifted over to one side and patted the arm for her to sit. She perched cautiously on the arm, "I want to thank you, Tori, for coffee, for all the training, the massage last night but most of all for your friendship." I find her quite sweet, I take her hand, give it a gentle squeeze and hold it in mine, "You are very welcome," I rest my head on the recliner and look out the window again, we watch the world beyond in silence for a while and sip our coffees.


	5. Chapter 5 - Up the ladder

Tori and Tris - Chapter Five - Up the ladder

Trading favours is an unpredictable career path, it's unavoidable when living in a repressive environment but surprisingly lucrative. I don't keep score, deliberately. It's part of my own personal rebellion to generously help as many good people survive and thrive as I can. The uninvited consequence is that I have accrued a wide base of friendship, loyalty and trust as well as some deep pockets of credits with some valuable sources. This makes me a target as well. As a consequence, my former gregarious personality has warped into an apparently snarky, somewhat antisocial hermit; waving to someone across the room is akin to inking their name in the black book of some discreet watcher.

Evidently my credit is good because I was able to arrange for an old friend to give Tris some weapons training, on the down low. Saturday night was games night and I remember what goes on after games night. I was happy for her, she was a good kid, she had been working really hard and some good clean fun with her peers was exactly what she deserved. I didn't see her again until Monday, where I noticed her looking quite changed, she was glowing, walking taller and grinning broadly.

She chatted happily while we stretched, I listened to her recount her games night win, the cherry was that Eric had been the leader of the opposing team! She mentioned the names of her cohort friends and described how much she loved the feeling of soaring through the city heights at speed. She laughed as she admitted that she was petrified but realised she loved the rush of adrenaline and sense of danger. Her eyes were sparkling.

Not for the first time, I realised how wrong I had been about her. My choice would have seen this vivacious young woman living a muted half life in Abnegation, cut off from her Divergence, her essence, and die in perfect safety having never experienced an authentic moment or realised her potential. I looked at her body, it too was changed and changing. She had caught some sun over the weekend, her arms were noticeably thicker, her muscles developing and rather than scrawny sticks hanging by her sides, they were now shapely, strong and useful. She was proving as Dauntless as I ever was.

"Tori," I heard her voice trying to reach me, "Tori?" Her eyes were boring into me, she had been watching me. I lifted my eyes to her own sparkling grey blue ones and allowed my final thought to unfurl itself. It was in two parts; that as a member of Dauntless I had pledged to protect the citizens of Chicago and that in a moment of weakness I failed to protect and defend at least one. This one. I tore my eyes from her penetrating gaze, ashamed.

I rose and stepped into the bathroom to wash my face in icy cold water, trying to get a grip on overactive mind. Tris asked if I was ok, tried to get me to talk, to comfort me but I adopted an impenetrable exterior however I was no less kind to her than before. My amends would begin now. I turned my attention to her training, she was listed for Fight Club On Wednesday, against a similarly ranked girl.

Tris was able to win convincingly without taking out the girl by a jab to the throat. It's hard to know what to make of that; maybe she was unable to overcome her inner Abnegation or perhaps she was saving that particular weapon for her Friday fight against a much better ranked opponent. I would have given much to have watched her fight, from both a professional perspective and personal interest. I flatter myself that a last minute thumbs up from her mentor would have provided Tris with a spark of confidence, her pride would have demanded a winning performance. But I dare not take such a reckless chance.

It has been many years since I have had any business in the pit and my presence could not have failed to escape Eric's notice. Besides, I have communicated my interest to Four, he was in daily contact with Tris and would surely make me aware of anything of interest, he could be absolutely relied upon to make me aware of anything I might need to know. I have no doubt he knows that I am training her, her progress would be too marked to escape his expert knowledge. As it turns out, Tris needs none of my last minute interference.


	6. Chapter 6 - Taking the win

Tori and Tris - Chapter Six - Taking the win

On Friday, I wait anxiously for Tris. My unasked question was answered before she had closed the door. Her unabashed pleasure and unbounded pride radiated from her person like a lighthouse had been lit behind her rib cage. I opened my arms and she fell into them, holding me as tightly as I held her. We stood there clinging to each other for many long moments - it was hard to know who was the happier although I was more than willing to withdraw my claim. As we dragged our bodies away, I noticed tears in Tris' eyes, her mouth attempted to form words, "I want to thank you, Tori -" I smiled, shook my head gently putting my index finger to her lips.

I move to the kitchen, in the back of a rarely used cupboard, I have accrued an impressive stash of liquor, I retrieve a rare bottle of alcoholic apple cider, I am sure Tris will like. I am not given to celebrating bloodshed - make no mistake, violence serves a purpose and I am prepared to embrace it as a well considered strategy. I raise the bottle and say "Tonight, we celebrate!" I empty some ice cubes into unmatching glasses and pour the sparkly pale liquid slowly over the uniform clear blocks. I watch as they react to the effervescence and warmth from the alcohol, the cubes hiss and sizzle, and jostle for position within the glasses.

I push the vessel into Tris' hand and raise my own "To you! Congratulations." Tris grins broadly, clinks my glass and sips the liquid suspiciously. "It's delicious" she drags her knuckles back and forth underneath her nostrils in a quick motion, where, I correctly guess, the effervescence had tickled her nose. The look on her face at this moment would become as dear to me as any memory I would ever prize and I sigh in deep satisfaction. She sniffed at the glass and sipped again, as though she was drinking something quite precious. And some would argue that she was.

"Now tell me about it, I want every detail," we kick off our shoes and sit side by side on the floor against the foot of my bed. I normally only smoke on the weekends but my excitement has made me rather impulsive, I reach under the mattress for one of the many packets I have stashed, not only about the room, but at the tattoo parlour as well. Tris looks shocked, "I didn't know you smoked cigarettes," she knows immediately that her Abnegation is showing, I know she would like to take back her words if she could, but I remember her guarded upbringing, I nudge her in the ribs and laugh, hoping she can laugh at herself, she can.

She watched me smoking, captivated by the process, and re-lived her fight with Peter. She had been nervous, her friends had cheered and encouraged her, her legs shook as she climbed up onto the mats and he had taunted her. She told me she felt like crying right up until the moment he invited her to, suggesting he would take it easy on her if she did. She laughed again as she told me that in that moment she realised that could not have squeezed out a tear for her life, after he said that. I laughed with her, enjoying every moment of her success.

She was quiet for a couple of minutes, and then looked at me, before she said, "Four cornered me right before the fight and told me Peter's tell." She was watching my reaction which I tried to mask, I must have shown too little surprise because she was immediately suspicious. She continued watching and speaking, "He told me to watch, that Peter always steps before he punches." I nod slowly, "And does he?" "Yes," she looked down thoughtfully at her glass, swirling the ice cubes around slowly. "Tori, why are you training me?"

I felt the intensity of her look and realised that although I may be able to put her off today, I would not be able to put her off indefinitely, and I have no such desire. I considered my answer, spending my time wastefully by draining my glass and topping up both glasses, I sipped and puffed on my fag. Tris waited and watched like she was trying to interpret a mime. I was not adverse to her knowing the truth, but I felt that the information I had to impart required careful scaffolding. Too much information would burden her unnecessarily and could also endanger her, I sigh and introduce Tris to my younger brother George.

My heart ached to remember him - a beautiful, clever, cheeky boy who died for too young and far too violently. I will never forgive myself. I described George indulgently, talked about our family, my parents, our childhood, our close relationship as we grew up. I told Tris of my defection from Erudite and when it was his turn, Georgie followed me to Dauntless, I related our joy to be back together again. Like us, Georgie had hovered hopelessly under the red line for the first two phases of training. I drew a sharp breath as I arrived at the crux of the story, the point of no return. Once the next part of the story was known to Tris - it can never be unknown. There would be consequences and I would be unable to anticipate them all.

I drank and smoked, Tris listened and watched and I pressed on before my confidence deserted me completely. I explained how in the third phase of training George began to experience unexplained success, that he moved from below the red line to above, and shot up the leaderboard. His success threatened others in his cohort and raised suspicions from some in the Dauntless Leadership Group. I urgently schooled him to moderate his success and pleaded with him to stop bragging about his success, but having escaped the shameful humiliation of life below the red line he had felt giddy and became arrogant.

Tris was a good listener, she was also clever, "George was divergent?" she asked quietly. I nodded, pressing on, trying to be on the other side of this terrible story as quickly as possible. "They found him dead," I choked out the words unevenly, "at the bottom of the chasm before initiation was even over." Tris gasped, her hand flew to her mouth and then covered mine gently but firmly, "Oh Tori, I am so sorry." I was unable to contain the sort of strangled cry and the tears spilled out of my eyes unrestrained. I indulged my upset for several minutes, and then I suddenly remembered that I had just pulled the pin on a grenade and left it precariously at Tris's feet.

I sniffed several times, wiped my eyes on the back of my hands. Still holding Tris' hand, I turned to face her, I searched my mind for something of comfort to say but came up empty. We looked at each other. Two bereft souls in need of comfort and wanting to comfort the other. I wanted to lean forward and kiss her, to replace the pain and fear I am sure she is processing at this moment with a tender love and passion. But that would never do, for so many, many reasons. I pushed the thought aside, and empty the last contents of the bottle equally into our glasses.

Tris was the first to break the silence, "So you are training me so I don't end up at the bottom of the chasm, too." I shiver, shocked by the harsh articulation, it conveys a particularly vivid image. I don't respond immediately, chiding myself on relaying the story in such a way that she could have drawn such a conclusion. But I realise that Tris' mind is so sharp that she could hardly have failed to draw such an interpretation, regardless of any way the message may have been delivered. "Well, there is that too, of course," Her head snaps up, "There is more?" she gapes. "There is much, much more Tris, but it can not be relayed to you in one night. I need you to trust me, Tris, please?" She looks down at our joined hands and nods in resignation.


	7. Chapter 7 - It takes a village

Tori and Tris - Chapter Seven - It takes a village

I woke rather confusedly to the sound of Tris calling my name from the foot of my bed, very early on Sunday morning. "Tori, Tori?" I sat up urgently "Tris? What is it? What's wrong?" The sheet slipped down in my hasty movement, she was gaping at the sight of my naked breasts, and turned her demurely. I struggled to find the edge of the sheet and pulled it up to cover myself, for her sake. "Are you ok?" "I'm ok," she nodded, "Sorry to wake you." I shifted to the middle of the bed, patting the vacant spot, indicating for Tris to take a seat by me. I tucked the sheet firmly under my armpits and clawed my hair back out of my face.

Tris approached shyly and sat facing me, in the spot where my hand had just been, she folded one leg underneath her and the other hung over the side of the bed. "I am sorry about George," she started, rather unsure of herself. "It's ok, Tris," I doubted that this was the reason for her early morning visit, but being less clever I thought my best bet was to wait to hear what she had to say. She appeared to be struggling with either the topic at hand, or how to verbalise it, and very probably both. Her hands began worrying each other, twisting, rubbing and picking, trying to ease her anxiety.

Eventually she eyed me and said "Last week, Keats asked me to help him with a shipment," I am going to have to work on my poker face because I can feel my eyebrows rising against my wishes and Tris is very perceptive. "He asked me about weapons training all the way to the collection point." "Really?" I knew I was unconvincing. "Really," she nodded, not buying what I was selling. "Instead of pulling in to the collection point, he drove on and pulled into some abandoned weapons training facility." I zipped my lips, she talked on, "He just happened to have a small selection of handguns and semi automatics in the back. Quite a lot of ammunition and would you believe it - throwing knives," she finished up and skewered me with one of her knowing looks.

I just knew that the kind of answers Tris anticipated was going to require coffee, "Do you know how to make coffee?" I asked her. "I know how to boil a kettle," she replied, taking the hint and heading into the kitchen. I wrapped the sheet around my body and slithered into the bathroom. I had a quick wash and found something to wear, in the kitchen Tris had spooned an Abnegation measure of coffee into two mugs. Preferring a strong coffee, I tilted the mug to assess how much coffee I would need to add in order to be able to drink it. I showed her a heaped spoon of coffee before adding it to my cup - if Tris was going to be in the habit of waking me up so early she was going to have to learn how to make coffee.

Tris acknowledged my message about the coffee with a nod and picking up where she left off, said, "Really helpful, Keats was. In the same vein, it was really nice of Four to tip me off about Peter, on Friday." I was sticking to my zipped lip policy, and pushed a mug of coffee into her hand. "Are you helping other initiates?" "No," I shook my head, wondering where she was going with this. "Have you helped anyone else in the past?" "No." "The other initiates are not getting outside help," she said following me back to the bedroom where she joined me on the floor. "Are you sure?" I plant a seed of doubt.

No chance, it seems she is always a step ahead of me. "Did you know about Keats?" she asked. Feeling trapped, I raise my arms in mock surrender, "Yes." A tiny half nod reveals her self congratulation, she knew she was on the right track. "And Four?" "Not directly, but Four and I are close." "And, it's because I am Divergent?" "Not exactly, no." I have finally managed to surprise her, "You aren't going to leave this alone are you?" No answer. I nudge her in the ribs, "Not even until the sun comes up?" She looks like she has been scolded, so I quickly smile and add, "I wouldn't wait either."

She grins, reaches under the mattress and pulls out my cigarettes. Cheeky little… I shake my head. I know that she knows that I will talk more and be less guarded if I am distracted by my beloved ciggies. I give in, light up and pick up the next chapter of the story that Tris needs to know. It begins with another introduction, the death of another one very dear to my heart - Dauntless. Triss listens with deep interest as I share with her my experience of my wonderful new home and my loving new family. I reveal how scared I was, how homesick, how skinny and feeble, how I thought I would never amount to anything. Tris was nodding constantly, seeing herself in my experience.

She began to appreciate the cultural shift between Dauntless then and Dauntless now. Initiates were never threatened with being cut or being made factionless. Only as punishment for the worst crimes. Membership had been extended to us upon arrival, but over time membership was withheld, a prize to be won by a select few, upon a successful Initiation Day.

Leadership had been committed to helping all initiates achieve a high level of physical, emotional and mental proficiency; in fitness, hand to hand and weapons. And Newbies were never subjected to harm in Fight Club. There was a very real sense of community, a sense of family and belonging. Initiates of the same cohort bonded closely and used to refer to each other as brothers and sisters, competition was lighthearted entertainment, but there was nothing one wouldn't do for another.

Tris was moved by my passion as I spoke about Dauntless as my home and my family. I shared my philosophy about how I had been given so much and wanted to preserve and extend that to future generations of Dauntless. Without naming names, I regretfully explained the slow erosion of traditional Dauntless values which had been replaced by a vicious authoritative culture in which violence, bullying, coercion and competition thrived. Tris began to comprehend the culture of secrecy and silence and had no problem heeding my reminder about keeping our friendship undisclosed. To never take the chance of bitching about people like Eric, even if she felt certain others shared her sentiments.

Taking the trouble to explain the intricacies of my system; that even though Keats and I were friends, and Four and I were close, that I never discussed one with the other and neither with anyone else - herself excepted. Tris nodded fervently, her brow creased as her brilliant mind processed all the explicit and implicit implications that could be drawn from the information contained in my dialogue. I have no trouble expecting that she likely understands it better than me. She will be a much more valuable member of Dauntless - and I am no lightweight.


	8. Chapter 8 - Both sides of the closet

Tori and Tris - Chapter Eight - Both sides of the closet

I was satisfied and relieved when Tris finished phase one above the red line. We continued to train most evenings both for the enjoyment of sparring together as well as necessity, we have by this time become close friends and we each value our time together. I have long come to accept that I love her, this beautiful, clever, kind, spirited character. She has grown strong and continues to flourish in the sunshine that was unavailable to her whilst she remained under the shadow of the dreaded red line. But I will never act upon my feelings - for, as I remind myself frequently, a great many important reasons.

I have begun schooling Tris in all things Divergent. It's impossible for me to discuss Divergence without mentioning faction politics or the government of Chicago, and ever the keen student, she never fails to make important connections. I explain that while the Factionless are said to not fit into any faction, that Divergents fit into too many and that this very notion undermines the faction system. When I explain how general distrust and discrimination of Divergents is furtively becoming a policy concern, Tris nods fiercely.

Which brings us to the pressing concern of Tris to making her way, undetected, through phases two and three. I carefully prepare Tris for the training process, she detects I am holding back and calls me on it. Damn it. I walk over to my large window and place my hands at either end of the sill, weighing my options. To tell or not to tell. Tris should be used to pauses by now, but she can't seem to control a sudden panic, "You don't trust me?" she accuses me in a tiny, wounded voice. "Oh, Tris," I turn to her, "It is not an issue of trust." She appears relieved if not entirely convinced. I know that she will get it out of me, "Cigarette?" she suggests with a sly grin, this has become a running joke between us, whenever she thinks it will improve her chances of getting what she wants. I give in not because I love cigarettes - which I do, but because I love her.

Tris understands our predicament easily; if she fails to navigate the simulation training she will be Factionless. If her divergence is detected she will be killed. Any intervention is an acknowledgement of her divergence. She understands my dilemma, she has come to appreciate my long reach - not that she has ever taken advantage of the fact. It is true, I am not without the power to intervene. She places her hands on my arms, "No", she says simply. When I don't respond, she shakes me slightly, "Tori, no?" She is waiting for me acquiescence. It's her choice so I nod and confirm "No." She is also correct.

I didn't see Tris for several days but I didn't think anything of it. I kept busy at the parlour. When she didn't stop by over the weekend I wondered if she was injured or ill. I didn't want to hit Four up again for information about Tris so I decided to get out in the world a little and see what I could learn indirectly. I caught up for beers with a few of the Leadership Group, I ate dinner in the mess several times and I began reaching out to a few old cronies. There was definitely something going on, but what? Nobody openly named the issue, indeed acknowledged that there was any issue at all. But I could smell it in the air. I could only wait now until someone or something made it known to me.

When I got home from work on Thursday evening, I was glad, for a moment, to see Tris leaning, as she had seen me do many times, on my window sill, looking out into the night. "Hey," I said softly, dropping my bag by the door. "Hey," she replied without turning. "I've missed you," I said, No reply. Ah, the quiet before the storm, me suspects. I think I am going to need alcohol, I open the fridge to see what I have on hand and shrug at a half empty bottle of white wine. "Wine?" "Yes please," she turns and I can see she has been crying.

I hand her a glass and take up my spot on the floor at the foot of the bed, leaning my back against the wrought iron frame. Tris, however, turns the recliner toward me and sits in that. She is quite some distance from me, it's going to make conversation awkward, I note, but Tris is not given to random choices. She takes several gulps of the contents of her glass, takes a deep breath and begins, "Last week, when I left here, I got to the bottom of the stairs to find Eric waiting for me." "Waiting for you?" I ask. "Waiting. For me," she repeats and there can be no mistaking either her meaning or her tone.

"He made it clear he knew that I had been in your apartment. That I had been here before. He implied that it was somehow inappropriate, that I had broken some unspoken rule." She glugged at her wine again, "He walked with me back to the Compound, talking the whole time about now he knew how I had risen above the red line. That he knew I could not have beaten Peter fairly and had been watching me, following me since then" She drained her glass and I got up to give her mine, she clearly needed it far more than I did. I put my hand on her back but she shrugged me off rather roughly so I gave her her space.

I grabbed a beer and brought my bag back to my spot on the floor, I rifle through it for my ciggies and light up. I feel as though there is more to her story, but she seems reluctant to continue. "Has he been hard on you this week?" She didn't reply, which is confirmation. "I denied that I knew you, but I think that made it worse, he just laughed at me. When I wasn't scared and didn't start crying he began abusing me, intimidating and insulting me. He called you an old dyke." I drew in my breath sharply, a new realisation dawning upon me. Tris burst into tears and I felt paralysed. Not about being called a dyke, but the old was a bit rich!

I wanted to comfort her but I didn't dare. At first I thought Tris was going to say that she had decided to stay away because she didn't want to draw attention to our connection. That was until she said the word dyke. Now she knows that it wasn't simply a random insult, that I am indeed a lesbian, and she was reviewing our relationship with a new lens. The kicker is of course that I am indeed in love with her. When she asks me, regardless of my response, my feelings will be revealed - she has always been able to read me. I will lose her friendship.

"So it's true?" I realise she has been watching me for some minutes. She doesn't need to ask, she already knows, but I confirm regardless, "I am a lesbian, yes," I say, eyeballing her. I know she sees the fire in my eyes, my defiance, my pride. Her eyes well up and she looks away, she gives an awful sort of laugh, "I didn't even know what a dyke was, I had to ask someone in my cohort," she says accusingly. She sips, I smoke, both thinking hard. "Why didn't you tell me?" she finally asks. "Are you a lesbian?" I ask, her eyes widen, "No, I am not" she says, taken aback. "Why have you never told me?" I ask, pressing home my point.

She doesn't stay long and we are both relieved. Of course, I am genuinely sorry that Tris has been hurt, but she was always going to be hurt by learning of my sexual preference. I don't regret my silence. Of interest to me is that she never asked me _the_ question. The one they always ask. How do I feel about them? Yet of greater concern is Eric. He must really have it in for her, to be following her around and waiting for her well into the night. I have no trouble believing Tris' version of his predatory, threatening behaviour. I have some concern for myself, but I have a great many resources. My main worry, as always, is for Tris. And I am at a loss as to how to proceed.


	9. Chapter 9 - Fear implicit and explicit

Tori and Tris - Chapter Nine - Fear; implicit and explicit

I haven't seen Tris since that conversation and my heart ached for her, both because I miss her and because I am deeply concerned for her. I haven't been sleeping well and I have to force myself to eat. I know that our connection is now public knowledge. Again, I couldn't care less, not about what anyone thought about what we might have been doing up here every night, or anything else. Except as far as anything that may implicate Tris. If Eric thought it was fair game to stack the deck - then I have no problem evening the odds.

If I am reliant on others to inform me, then I am forced to make myself available for some such communication. I kept up appearances around the compound; I cashed in some credits by stocking up on personal supplies. There isn't anything I need but others benefit from my participation in the economy, including the black market. I went to town spending credits on combat boots and a durable warm coat - these items are transferable in and outside of Dauntless. I bought clothes; underwear, tank tops, long and short sleeved tops and training gear, I made myself conspicuous.

I allowed several people to profit generously by placing a number of very large black market orders. So much of this stock is highly lucrative and easily transferable. I wasn't so much buying makeup, tea and coffee, healing balms and lotions, medication, let's be honest - drugs and alcohol, I was purchasing goodwill. I hung around after work, I drank at the bar and ate in the mess but failed to learn anything of value in relation to Tris.

This sudden flurry of public activity could not have gone unnoticed by all and sundry - especially Eric. No one cares that I am a lesbian. No one. Of that I am absolutely certain. I am confident that when Tris realises her Abnegation is showing, she won't care either. But I am not going to let Eric intimidate me, even by proxy. This is not over by a long shot and that fucked up little prick doesn't even realise that he is already choking on the bit of me he has tried to bite off. And I will make sure he can never, ever spit me out. Oh yes, I have got my Dauntless on now, look the fuck out. I snigger to myself when I consider what Tris would make of my foul mouth.

Tris. I darent make any direct move on Eric until I know I can protect Tris. It was three or four nights later that I was woken in the night by the friendly knock. I couldn't be sure I had actually been to sleep but I was vertical and mostly dressed before the second urgent pattern could be completed. I pulled open the door - it was Four. He pulled from the wall a barely conscious Tris, who was quite literally soaked in blood. I stood aside, mute and shocked, Four lifted Tris easily and laid her on the bed. I mechanically moved across the room, feeling like I was watching this scene from outside my body.

"What the fuck?" I whispered viciously to Four, we surveyed the damage - it is extensive. Tris' face was deeply bruised, her nose was clearly broken, her mouth was cut and bleeding. Her clothes were ripped and torn, her fingernails were broken and bleeding she was sweating, trembling and her breathing was shallow and ragged. "Four?" I demand an answer, he takes my arm and leads me over to the window, out of ear shot. Without taking his eyes from her, he is not quite sure where to start, "I came across a half a dozen hooded guys trying to get her over the chasm." My heart stops and my hand clamps over my mouth.

"I know," He nods at me seriously. And then I remember Georgie and a new wave of devastation hits me. Four wraps his arms around me but I push him away. He understands me, I just can't deal with kindness in moments like these - I would much rather someone tried to strangle me, it should be obvious why. You can't process your grief if you are fighting for your next breath. "It's been really bad. I was able to get them off of her, but only just. I got the hoods off of two so I know who they are, a couple ran away, and we will know who the others are in a day or two because they will have broken fingers and smashed faces." He smiles at me, grimly. "Oh my God, Four. How did she?" I'm lost for words, "Six of them, how did she?" I can say it. Not go over the edge, is what I'm thinking.

Again, Four knows, "Apparently she just sort of koala beared one of them and they couldn't get her off of him," We look at each other, both of our eyebrows nearly hitting our hairline. "I told you, she was a fighter," he shrugged. And again, I think of Georgie, I know Four didn't mean anything. But the thing is this; first, Georgie being thought of as weak hits me hard because I know he was Dauntless as hell, and second, it's not Dauntless to kill people, particularly the vulnerable. We are the protectors after all. Four watches me, and knows where my mind has gone, "Hey, I'm sorry," he says, and I know it.

"I have to go," Four says regretfully. I nod and stand up straight, if Four says he has to go I know he has something to attend to, I don't need to know what. "Do you need anything else from me? Are you hurt?" I ask, he knows I have access to brews, potions, lotions and lets just say some very strong stuff. He shakes his head, "I will survive," and that reminds us both of Tris, we look over to her. When he reaches the door, he looks at me hard and says "Lock this - we can't afford to lose anymore heroes." His words hit me hard and I nod, swallowing a large lump, "I will wait to hear from you." He nods back, glances again at Tris and slips out the door silently. I close the door, lock it and apply a homemade lock contraption that I have never had the need to use before now.

I set the kettle to boil and return to Tris, I can't be sure she is conscious, but she is breathing. I take off her bloody shoes and socks, I open her coat easily because all of the buttons have been ripped off in the struggle. It reveals a torn and blood stained long sleeved top. I am shocked, if there is this much blood on her outer clothes - what sort of damage has been afflicted on her person. Fuck it, I am just going to cut away all her clothes, there is nothing worth salvaging that won't cause Tris unnecessary pain to remove. I cut away the pants, leaving on her knickers, for her modesty, I cut away the long sleeve top, the short sleeve top and something else she had on under that - "Christ," I whisper to myself, she is dressed like she's at the Southpole. I leave only her bra, and drag the rest out from under her body.

I cant believe what I'm looking at. Six guys on one small, still skinny, initiate. I wonder how many it took to get Georgie over. I drape a sheet over her, I prepare some tea and pour some boiling water in a bowl, adding some ingredients to disinfect her wounds, to aid the healing process and to treat her pain. Beginning with her face, I start washing away the trails of fresh and dried blood, I talk softly to her, unsure whether she can hear me or not. I mentally log the wounds, she needs several sets of stitches and her nose needs putting right, then I notice a rather large bald patch where her hair used to be at the side of her head. Six mother fuckers…

I feel like the world as we knew it has imploded tonight. And in truth it has. I know it. Four knows it. And when word gets out, which will be by breakfast tomorrow - our alliance will know it too. We will not stand by while our brothers and sisters are murdered. It is the deepest betrayal of our Dauntless spirit.

Tris stirs as I staunch her bleeding and tend to her injuries. "Ssshhh Tris, you're safe now, you're safe," There is no part of her body that I can confidently pat or rub to impart comfort, without hurting her. "Tori?" She is unable to open her eyes, they are now swollen shut and the bruising has already taken effect, each eye closely resembles a shiny 8 ball. "Yes, Tris, it's me, you're safe now." The tears begin to force their way out of her eyes and her breathing comes in hard sobs. I can only hope these are tears of relief - if not, this is a very cruel world and a literal insult to injury.

"Tori, Tori," she cries. "Sshh, Tris, it's ok, don't talk now, you're safe, I promise," I continue working her injuries because it seems the only useful thing I have to offer. The tears are now also running down my face too, I'm not sure whether they are flowing for me, for Tris or for Georgie. As soon as I can, I prop Tris up a little and encourage her to drink the tea I have prepared, it has powerful healing properties, to which I have added strong pain medication and a more than mild sedative. I blow on the liquid and hold the cup to her lips, Tris has not the awareness that the tea is rather bitter, she has enough to do just to sip and swallow.

I tell her that she will be asleep shortly, that I am going to reset her nose and give her some stitches, she doesn't even nod and is asleep before the end of the tea. I make short work of the injuries on her face but it takes much longer to find all those that have littered her tiny frame. She has internal injuries as well as broken and cracked ribs, front and back, which I am unable to wrap without a second pair of hands. I have to make do with cold compresses and other makeshift first aid remedies.

Exhausted and emotionally wrought, I watch her sleeping deeply and will her to rest easy and mend quickly. Remembering that she apparently feels the cold, I pile the blankets on her, tucking them around her so that no sneaky breezes can reach her skin. Then I lean over the toilet and vomit.


	10. Chapter 10 - From the jaws of death

Tori and Tris - Chapter Ten - From the jaws of death

Even before checking on Tris, I seek out the small blue card and place it in the corner of the window, it's a signal I haven't used for a long time and fervently hope that that doesn't mean that it won't be looked for. Then I remember that news of the assault on Tris will be all over the faction, and beyond, by breakfast and many such signals will be flying before lunch. I hear Tris shifting around, she is crying and appears distressed, I move quickly to her side " Hi Tris, it's me, Tori, wake up, you're dreaming, you're safe now,"

My heart goes out to her, her eyes are still swollen shut, she must be in agony and now she is dependent on someone she despises for her basic human needs. "Do you need the bathroom?" "Yes, please," she croaks reluctantly, if she was blushing, her bruises concealed it well. I grabbed a towel and as I pulled the blankets down, I covered her with the towel. It is easier for both to simply lift her and carry her to the bathroom, I set her down carefully and encourage her to call me for anything and left her to it, trying to preserve her modesty.

I put the kettle on, find some comfortable clothes for her and strip the bed, putting on fresh sheets. Just when I think Tris has been in the bathroom long enough to warrant enquiry, she comes limping blindly through the door, holding on to her towel. I lift her again and place her on the bed, she accepts my help which is a sure sign of her desperate situation. "Do you need a shower?" I ask. "I can't," she says simply and I believe her. "I'm in my underwear," she says as I arrange her pillows and blankets around her, "You were pretty banged up," I say smiling and then I remember she can't see me. How a girl who was just nearly murdered could be concerned about nudity is beyond my comprehension, but I keep my opinion to myself.

I prepare tea for us both and set a dining chair by her bedside, we sit together and sip, Tris now able to hold her cup, even if she can't see it. Again I notice her broken and bloody fingernails. Images of Tris fighting for her life, clawing, scratching and holding on, a moment from death. It hits me hard, the grotesque violence of it all, the sheer terror that must have been coursing through every cell of her body. "How did I get here?" she asked. "Do you remember what happened?" "I was attacked?" she asked rather than stated, "They tried to push me over - ," A deep sob wrenched itself from her chest, I am sure it hurt like a bitch. I take her tea and climb onto the bed and pull her to me, holding her close, not caring one whit if she is concerned about catching lesbian germs. She should be so lucky!

I hold her until the properties of her tea take effect, then I lay her gently back against the pillows, I tuck the blankets up under her armpits. When I take the cups back to the kitchen, I return with two tea towels and a little jar of cream. I lay each hand on a tea towel and taking one at a time, I gently dip her fingers into the jar, one at a time, leaving them generously coated. I fold the top half of tea towels over her hands, leaving them to time and healing herbs to repair while she sleeps. I watch her for a while, willing myself to remember her as she was; her cheeky smile, her perseverance, her clever mind and as these memories fill my mind, I remember all the reasons I love her.

Later, the friendly knock sounds at the front door, it shocks me back to reality. As I approach, I am suddenly afraid, can I still trust the friendly? Can we? I tiptoe to my nightstand, inches from Tris' sleeping body, I grab my 9mm and the magazine. I slide the magazine into the handgun and pull the safety. My visitor finally accepts my standoff and calls softly, "Tori? Tori? It's me, Luka," aahh Luka! We are safe. I breathe again, lock my weapon and shove the handgun into the waistband at the back of my pants. He is responding to my blue card communication in the window, from this morning.

I place my finger to my lips and he nods, sliding unobtrusively into the room and locks the door, he remains there like a sentry. This is not a social call after all, we are all business. "You know?" I ask quietly, he nods, "At breakfast," He glances in the direction of the bed and is visibly shocked at the sight of Tris' face and arms, even at this distance, his eyes snap to his feet and remain there. "She is an Abnegation transfer" I say, he understands my allusion to her modesty, he will not divulge that he has seen her, to anyone. "I'm going to need supplies," I say, he nods again. I press several lists into his hand, one for medical supplies, one for linen and clothes, and one for food. He looks them over, "Tori," he says with determination, "anything you need, will be found," I squeeze his hand. He fingers the makeshift door lock, "Use that," and pulls the door closed behind him.

I comprehend his code and I am touched. For myself I don't care, but this, _this_ is Dauntless, reaching out to care for, to love and to protect their little sister, Tris. It warms my heart. It feels like home and I realise that I have long been homesick. I wonder why we didn't react like this when Georgie was killed, but I know the answer. _Leadership_ deemed it a suicide. I know better. Luka's communication conveys not only his own, but others' absolute rejection of a system that permits, nay, perpetuates acts of such savage violence. I lock the door, remove the blue card and check on Tris. She is still sleeping and I resist the urge to touch her face, push back her hair.

When I take her to the bathroom, she loops her arm around my waist and slightly dislodges the 9mm I forgot I had stashed there, she doesn't notice and I am glad, I want her to feel safe. I mentally rebuke myself - its fucking insane to expect a woman who was just nearly murdered to feel safe. I immediately remove the magazine from its chamber and put both pieces at the back of the drawer, and help her back into bed. She has so far refused all nourishment except the tea, which sends her right back to sleep. I have to keep a close eye on that; it's potent stuff she is ingesting and she will have to go without soon enough, for her own sake. But it has been the only escape she has had from the pain and terror, or am I talking shit again?

In the morning, it is raining heavily, I love rainy days. I make soup, I am sure the smell will encourage her to eat and the goodness of the herbs and veggies will benefit her recovery. Every time I walk with her now she runs her palm along the small of my back and I realise she is looking for it, the gun. I put a dining chair in the shower and gave her fresh clothes. I tell her to call me for anything but I know she won't. Later, I tap on the door, "Triss?" She is sitting on the toilet, lid down, in her knickers and the towel pressed to her chest. "Troubles?" I ask gently. "I cant get my bra on," she sighs, looking in my general direction still unable to open her eyes, she's holding up a bra that fastens in the back. Shit, that's on me!

"Don't wear one," I suggest and she gasps as though I have said something quite shocking. "Either I help you put it on, or you go without, up to you?" She cannot fail to hear the kindness in my voice, despite my choice of words and decides to go without, which is better for her ribs anyway. She is exhausted after her shower, but she takes some broth. While she slowly drinks the liquid from her spoon, I ask her if she needs to get a message to anyone? I don't need to explain that it is not safe to have visitors at this time but I assure her that we can make sure a message is passed on. She has been thinking of her friend Christina, and knows that she will be extremely worried. I pat her hand as I take her bowl and she lays back and is sleep as she hits the pillows.

Four comes by after dark and we whisper by the window. The two fuckers that ran off when Four showed up have absconded, they are now Factionless. The two that Four can identify have been arrested and now reside in the lock up. The final two that Four recognised by injury pattern have denied any involvement, their story is that they were drunk, fighting each other over a girl and unsurprisingly don't remember much. Leadership is split. Half believe there is enough evidence to implicate them, the other half - no guessing which, argues that there is not. Four nods when I tell him about Christina, it's tricky, he cannot reveal his own connection to Tris, nor anyone else's. He will figure it out, it's what we do.


	11. Chapter 11 - Surviving is thriving

Tori and Tris - Chapter Eleven - surviving is thriving

Thank God her mother doesn't know - surely it would devastate her to know that within less than a month of leaving her parents care she is fighting for her life. She would not be allowed to nurse her child, faction before blood. I would never want her to know that I am doing everything I can to comfort and care for her daughter. Tris sleeps most of the time, her eyes are still swollen shut. When she returns to bed, I apply cold packs and heat packs to various parts of her body, I change bandages and clean wounds, and check stitches. I have managed to strap her ribs but it is so painful I wonder if I can put her through it again.

Two days later I hear scrabbling noises at the front door and approach expecting the friendly, which doesn't come. I place a silent hand against the door and listen intently, someone is definitely out there. I pad quietly to Tris's bedside and take out the 9mm, returning to the door, I slide in the magazine and pull the safety. Silence. God, what I wouldn't give for a peephole right now. I lock the gun and slip it into the back of my pants. Several minutes later, I hear more scrabbling, I do not hesitate to reach for my weapon again, I glance over at Tris and pray to God that she is unaware of her surroundings.

I hear nothing more. Because of, rather than despite my training and skill set, I am not opening that door. I am not scared, it's just an unnecessary risk. I really want a smoke right now but I need to remain alert, I lock and stash my handgun at my back, my glance alternates from Tris to the front door and back again. I notice her begin to shift about, I move to her side and take her hand so that she knows I am near, she squeezes my fingers lightly. After a few minutes she signals her need for the bathroom and I lead her through the door, her hand finds my 9mm but she doesn't acknowledge.

Again, I hear something, someone. Tris must have heard it too, she is frozen, one hand on the basin. In a low voice, I tell Tris to be quiet and remain in the bathroom and I shut the door. I flick the safety and point the nozzle at the front door. My inner butch is on. For their sake there had better be at least a dozen of them because I have 30 bullets in this motherfucker and I am a hot shot. Four didn't bring Tris to my door as a favour to me, thats for fucking sure. I am in position, pressed against the wall, behind a corner, I am between Tris and the front door, adrenaline is flooding my system, my heart is pounding - I regulate my breathing.

Then I hear it. I hear the friendly followed immediately by a smart pattern I do not recognise. I lock the gun and replace it at my back. I go first to the bathroom door, cracking it I say "Its ok, it's one of ours, stay here." At the front door, it's Luka, and I knew it would be; the second pattern is our new friendly. Next to him is a small tower of boxes, he has raised a sweat getting all of this up the stairs, I move to help him bring them in, but he shoves me, not unkindly, back through the door. "Wheels," he explains and pushes the tower into my apartment, it wobbles but it doesn't fall. He immediately turns to lock the door.

There appears to be a lot of stuff, more than I asked for, but more than that, I am reassured that the well greased wheels of our alliance are both willing and functional. An image of Eric choking on a piece of me flashes into my mind and I grin, I really can be a sick son of a bitch sometimes. Luka pushes a bag into my hand "I hope you don't mind but this is some of the stuff you ordered recently," that's code for some of my black market supply has arrived. Protocol normally would be that parts of my order would be held until complete, and only then, the person with whom I placed the order would hand it over. But these are no longer normal times. My contact is in the know, concerned that I am in need he wants to supply me asap, but coming to my home would compromise us. "Thank you, Luka," I reassure him.

Encouraged he pushes a small glass vial into my hand, saying "You need this," he watches me looking it over closely, turning it over in my hands. I don't recognise the inch and a half long glass tube, with what appears to be a small brass nut at either end. Luka taps on the front door, "It's a peephole. You need it," he repeats, I nod. He has me stand at the front door and makes a pencil mark, then he pulls a cordless drill from the top box. I return to update Tris, I offer to help her back to bed but I know between her old sense of modesty and her newly acquired fear, she will wait until he has gone. I squeeze her hand and promise to be quick.

When Luka is finished, he tells me a deadlock is being sourced and we smile at the irony. This will be the safest apartment in Dauntless, for a faction of cops - that's some statement. Knowing Tris is imprisoned in the bathroom he gulps the glass of water I push into his hand and leaves before I have finished thanking him. It's not really necessary, he is not doing this not for me per se, not even for Tris, but for the alliance. It's kind of like bartering with points, they go into the kitty. But this was a big job and I am grateful.

I lock the front door and rap out our new friendly on the bathroom door just because I can, "Triss? He is gone, it's just me." Rather than helping her back to bed, I guide her to the recliner at the window and she sits in the sunshine, fingering her newly identified bald patch. I stand behind, looking down at her wishing I could take away her pain - both physical and psychological but that sort of thinking is fantasy. I bring her some tea and drop a hair brush into her lap. She drags it through her hair half heartedly but does not persist. I offer to cut her broken nails, she looks down at them, flexes her fingers a couple of times, but shakes her head. Fair enough, I think, hair and nails are first world problems.

Relative to my reducing the sedative and pain meds I had been supplying Tris, her night terrors increased. Her dreams are vivid and enduring, she wakes frequently and sweats heavily. Sometimes she wakes abruptly, screaming, other times she can't seem to wake at all and cries and moans in her dreams. At times her heart beats frantically, she seems to be looking around but with her eyes still swollen shut it can only add to her terror. I am always on hand to try to comfort her, to remind her that she is dreaming and quite safe. I keep the water glass to her lips and wipe the sweat from her skin. I am certain that she would thrash about more if her body was not so wounded and sore.


	12. Chapter 12 - Rising phoenix

Tori and Tris - Chapter Twelve - Rising phoenix

Tris was awake for longer periods today. Her eyes were beginning to heal, she could open each one a little but not at the same time. She was more mobile, although still ginger, her muscles were still quite sore all over her body and her ribs remained extremely painful. Many of her abrasions and bruises no longer needed medical treatment which I slyly replaced with therapeutic treatment. Tris needed less help to use the bathroom, and was having semi regular sitting showers. I encouraged her to rest in the recliner in the sunshine.

I was beginning to experience an impending sense of cabin fever. This has nothing to do with the care I provided to Tris which I would not trade for anything, caring for her had become an expression of my love for her. I cannot remember ever having spent so much time in such a small space, I was missing the parlour, my fellow staff members and customers. It had been years since I had been a very regular bar fly but just knowing that it wasn't an option made me especially thirsty and surprisingly social. It didn't help that I was desperate for information about the outside world. Logically I know that it is unsafe and that I will be advised of anything I need to know. I have got to keep busy.

The boxes did indeed contain more than I had requested. More food; including some very hard to come by luxury food items, there was tea, coffee, sweets, as well as alcohol and tobacco. Someone was thinking of me, I raise the pouch to my nose and breathe deeply, either my mind is playing tricks on me or I can detect a rather pleasant rum scent. There was more medication; syringes, instruments, dressings and sterile bandages, salves, ointments and gels. Plus the stuff I had ordered through the black market. Much of this stuff would need to be redistributed at some point.

I hadn't requested weapons but curiously there we had been supplied with two rebuilt semi automatic handguns, a beretta and a glock, with customised belts and a butt load of ammo. Two pairs of fighting sticks. A stash of hunting knives. And, pièce de résistance, two near new velcro vests that housed an enormous number and range of throwing knives and throwing axes. Somebody had been sitting on these! I was staring open mouthed at the booty, still fingering the vests and eyeing the hunting knives. I looked up suddenly aware that Tris was slowly approaching, her eyes were as round as I have seen them since, well since before. I drag the back of my hand across my mouth in case I had been caught drooling.

I had yet to decide whether the enormous weapons haul signalled further threats to our safety or were a celebration of our safety. Tris, ever more clever than myself, seems to have already come to her unhappy conclusion. Tears sprang to her eyes, as she came closer, she reached out to touch the glock, the fighting sticks, she looked down at the other supplies. "They are coming for me," she said in a shaky voice. I didn't know whether that interpretation was correct or not and for that reason felt unwilling and unable to provide Tris with the mean sort of comfort that involved minising her logic and down playing her fear. And that left me feeling incapacitated; Tris however pressed her body to mine and pulled my arms around her.

It occurs to me that my unprecedented, unexpected withdrawal from work, and everywhere else, can not help but be associated with the assault of Tris and her own subsequent withdrawal from public life. I considered whether the general knowledge of the two of us being more or less incarcerated in this apartment added to or retracted from our safety. I have no doubt that the best strategy would be to discuss these things with Triss because she is always able to appreciate such issues more fully, but she is particularly delicate and I don't want to add to her already heavy burdens.

Whilst Tris was sleeping I alternately meditated and trained in order to keep my mind and body actively employed, I trained lightly so as not disturb the patient. I continued to check on Tris, tending to her nightmares, but still having more time on my hands than I am used to, I finally gave in and gave the kitchen and bathroom a much needed scrub. I hand washed the growing pile of smalls gathering in the bathroom hamper, there was a surprising number of pairs of long thick socks. I recall that Tris feels the cold and I don't begrudge her any number of socks. Regardless of how bored I felt, I was not prepared to do any more cleaning, rather I rewarded myself by indulging in a rather strong drink and a ciggie, close by the open window, and hoped I wasn't killing my patient.

The following morning I awoke with a start, looking around frantically. I tried to get my bearings, I am fully dressed, stretched out rather uncomfortably in the recliner, I peer over my shoulder to find an empty bed. I scan the room, the bathroom door is open so I know Tris is not in there. I hear movement in the direction of the kitchen and notice the delicious smell of coffee. I made my way to the kitchen to see how Tris is faring, she looked so much better and my heart gave a little flutter. The swelling and bruising around her eyes and nose had begun to subside and some of her normal colour was returning to her face. "Well, look at you," I say softly so as not to startle her, I could not repress the happy grin that spread all over my face. Tris looked vastly improved and was pleased to be handing me a strong cup of coffee.

Tris took hers back to bed, so I followed, watching her movements to see if I could identify the state of her injuries or recovery as the case may be. Her eyes were open this morning, not all the way, of course, but at least Tris could see now. Her actual eyeballs were still very bloodshot. I climbed on to the bed and sat at the foot enjoying my beverage. I imagine Tris was feeling pretty grateful for her independence, her new range of movement and especially her sight, because she was relatively chipper. She was smiling and chatting, her eyes darting all around the room. The coffee could not sustain her however and she fell into a light sleep.

We had real food for dinner, by which I mean food that requires chewing, unlike soup, we enjoyed a delicious green salad, fresh bread and hamburger. I was glad to see Tris enjoy her food and display a decent appetite. I notice her fingers increasingly worrying the little bald patch, thinking of it brought images of Tris clinging on to one of those blokes at the edge of the chasm and the other five fuckers trying pry open her fingers, pulling out huge clumps of her hair, in order to detach her from their comrade and get her over the edge. I wonder if, as she touches that spot, she thinks of similar memories? I touch the hand that clutched her fork and apparently startled her, she snatches her other hand away from her head.

"How about a treat tonight?" Tris looks suddenly like a child at Christmas, "Yes, please! What is it?" I shrug mysteriously, "I don't know," I announce, "Why don't you wait in the recliner?" "Really?" She looks at me doubtlingy. "Aah, yea of little faith," I pushed her gently in that direction while I gathered up the dishes and took them to the kitchen. While waiting for the kettle to boil, I find a pillowcase and fill it with some of the luxury treats we had received. I made two hot chocolates, and brought them to the big window. I sat against the wall under the window facing the recliner, Tris mirrored my position and slipped uneasily to the floor as well. She sniffed at her mug and looked at me like we were participating in something very naughty. I held the up pillowcase so Tris could randomly pick a treat.

We enjoyed our sweet evening together, it was lighthearted and easy. Unsurprisingly, Tris had rarely partaken in such luxurious food in her life, she can actually recall the number of times she had eaten chocolate! We each picked one thing from the bag, studied the wrappers, read the ingredients list out to each other and recalled every similar experience we could remember. We took our time unwrapping them, looked at the treats closely, describing it to each other, pointing out nuts, cherries or marshmallows. We sampled each other's treat and ranked them according to various criteria, moaning in raptures at how rich they were.


	13. Chapter 13 - Making Lemonade

Tori and Tris - Chapter Thirteen - Making Lemonade

I habitually took my morning coffee to the recliner so I could watch out the window as though it was a monitor, gleaning news of the weather and entertainment. After a moment, Tris carefully perched herself on the arm of my chair, like she had once before, she slyly handed me a rather screwed up half packet of ciggies. Her fingers glanced my hand unnecessarily and my heart skipped another beat, at this rate my hopes for a long life were being fast diminished. Cigarettes. Unnecessary skin contact. I am on to you, Tris Prior, I think casting her some side eye "Feeling better?" I ask, officiously. She smiled, unaffected, and continued looking out of the window.

I was not oblivious to the fact that while I was watching life beyond the window; the moving trees, the birds, the green against the blue, Tris was watching me. I had long stopped mentally reciting the long list of reasons I had developed for never making a move on Tris. It occurred to me that I had never prepared a list of reasons to discourage possible advances from her! Interesting turn of events, I considered. My mind was thoroughly unsettled, torn between logically justifying the reasons one by one and launching frantically from desire to fear and back again. Before I could sort myself out, Tris kissed the side of my head and went to take a shower. I was taken by surprise but knowing Tris, I am convinced that that was part of a shock and awe strategy to secure my affection. If only she knew!

I thought it best to keep busy and these gorgeous new weapons ignited in me a renewed passion for training, I cleared some space on the training mats and began slowly and methodically stretching out. Before long, Tris tied her hair back and took up her position opposite, she imitated my movements as best she could. Tris didn't need me to warn her not to overextend herself - she had no desire to return to a state of dependence. When I could no longer resist, we tried on the velcro vests, pulling out and carefully examining all the knives, one by one, learning where within the vest certain knives were located. There were also throwing axes which added considerable weight to the vest.

We ate a rather hodge podge dinner of leftovers. Tris was fighting fatigue but chatted away determinedly. I enjoyed watching her facial expressions and listening to her conversation, perhaps Tris was also experiencing cabin fever, many of her tales recounted childhood memories of being out in nature with her parents, with Caleb or any one of a number of her childhood friends. Long walks in the countryside, climbing trees, swimming in the lake and her various interactions with birds and animals. She couldn't keep it up long however and exhaustion finally won out.

I cleared the dining table while Tris climbed into bed. After a rather pregnant pause, I heard her calling my name, "Tori, Tori?" Concerned, I moved to her side wondering if she was in pain, I had ceased adding sleeping agents and painkillers to her tea, hoping she would be able to sleep unaided. "Tea?" I asked, tucking her hair behind her ear, she shook her head, took my hand and shyly asked, "Why don't you sleep in the bed?" Cheeky little punk, I think, repressing twin desires to smile and shake my head. "Oh, because this is my side," I said airily and turned on my heel, marking the end of that particular conversation.

The real reason, of course,had been because I didn't want her to feel uncomfortable, sharing a bed with a lesbian, but now the reason is because Tris clearly has a crush on me and I am not encouraging her. The long list of reasons for which we can never be together now suddenly appeared as text, scrolling vertically through my mind, like movie credits. I could bear it no longer and determined to go to sleep, I noticed that Tris, who was sleeping, had scooted onto the other side of the bed! Unbelievable.


	14. Chapter 14 - Spinning webs

Tori and Tris - Chapter Fourteen - Spinning webs

Tris woke me by wrapping her arms around me and pressing her face into my back, I had slept fully clothed on top of the blankets and had kept well to my side. Being in her arms felt wonderful but I remained unconvinced about its appropriateness. "Good morning," she said, determinedly pretending that everything was precisely as it should be. The temptation to pretend likewise was strong, all of the reasons I had offered suddenly appeared as dust in the wind. I was going to ask her what she was doing, but we both already knew the answer.

"Remember the day I accused you of not telling me you are a lesbian?" she began. I already know that her strategic and highly logical argument was going to skewer me, whatever it might happen to be. Her intellect outstripped mine - no doubt. "I remember," I replied. "When I said that I didn't know what a dyke was, well, that was only partially true. In fact, the very concept of being a lesbain or gay had never occurred to me. We didn't have that in Abnegation. Eric was saying such foul things and I was ignorant, I was confused, hurt and scared." "It's ok," I assured her. "It's not an apology," she cuts me off quickly, "Oh." I say, sufficiently chastised, but she squeezes my hands and presses on.

"Can you turn around? I can't talk to your back the whole time." I shift on to my back and Tris wastes no time moving in, putting her head on my chest. I am putty in this girl's hands I realise, she is permanently three steps ahead of me. She arranges my arms and hands about her, and then continues. "And remember that day you talked to me of transferring to Dauntless, and how it was then?" "Yes, I remember," I nod. "You revealed much of yourself to me that day, more than at any other time, before or since." "Really?" I ask, surprised.

She took my hand and interlaced our fingers, and I let her. I am being seduced entirely by this clever, sexy woman, she is spinning a tale as a spider spins a web - drawing me on, drawing me in. It's as though I am sixteen and she is, well, considerably older. "You talked so passionately about Dauntless, about preserving traditions, about helping others, about resisting the current culture - Well, Tori, that's when I fell in love with you," "Tris," I interrupted her, but just as suddenly, I am interrupted myself. A stream of thought unfurled itself so clearly, I instantly understood my fear. The very moment Tris tells me she loves me, she also creates the possibility of a future point in which she may cease to. That would hurt.

I laugh silently and consider that perhaps my extended exposure to Triss' high level intellect is actually rubbing off on me. If one is prepared to believe such fancy then one could just as easily believe that to the degree to which my Erudite is increasing - my Dauntless is surely leaking out. What the fuck is happening with me? I have never been so insipid in my life.

"Sshh, I haven't finished," Tris interrupts me back. "When I told you that I knew you were a lesbian, did you never wonder why I didn't ask you if you loved me?" She never ceases to amaze, "Yes, I expected you to," I admit. "I didn't ask you, because I knew you would have to say yes. I just wasn't ready," she explained. "You knew?" I asked. "Yes, I already knew, so there!" "So there?" My eyebrows are well up, that is the most juvenile thing she has ever said to me and it was rather amusing. "Yes, so there. To summarise," she said, playfully employing the tone of a teacher, "First: you loved me, second: I loved you and third now I know what a lesbian is, so I know that we can be together." She coloured a little as she said this, but she was in earnest and I allowed myself to be convinced, happily so.

"I know what you are going to say," she said hurridly in an effort to bulldoze me, "You are going to say that the age difference blah blah, and that you're in the Leadership group and I'm an initiate blah blah, and that you don't want to take advantage of me and that how can I know I am a lesbian or that I love you blah blah, and now that Ive nearly been killed blah blah," But in truth, I had finally let go of all that. For at least one whole minute, maybe two - I had been basking in the knowledge that I was right now in love with and loved by Tris Prior. She loves me, I am holding her in my arms and if I kiss her, she will let me.

Tris has not anticipated my lack of resistance, she is unsure what to make of my silence. Propping herself up, she looks at me closely, "Well?" she asks. "Yes," I say simply, smiling. "Yes?" she double checks, "Yes," I confirm. She flops back on her pillow and says "Well, that was far easier than I anticipated." I laughed out loud, "You have other arguments prepared?" "Many," she laughed. Later when we had our coffee, Tris sat on my lap rather than the arm of the recliner, we alternately looked out of the window and stole stealthy looks at each other. We trained throughout the day and I could no longer resist the silent attraction to the sticks, it had been a long time since I had wielded a pair but I was confident it would come back to me. I passed a pair to Tris who took them wide-eyed and reverently, she wasn't alone. Of course, Tris was still battling the ill effects of her injuries, she was less strong and less flexible than formerly and still clearly in pain.

Tris' tenacity and perseverance now appeared to be tempered by the effects of trauma. Rather than sparring with the sticks our movements resembled more a slow motion dance, we employed the fundamental principles regarding core strength, balance and footwork - first I would be on offense with Tris defending and then we would change, and change about.


	15. Chapter 15 - Holding secrets

Tori and Tris - Chapter Fifteen - Holding secrets

Late in the afternoon our new friendly is rapped out discreetly upon the front door. Tris' panicked response betrays her heightened startle reflex, she grabbed a towel and retreated to the bathroom. Through the virgin peephole I spy Four's broad chest, he slides through the door and locks it behind him, "Thank God!" I exclaim. "Why?" he asks, "What's happened?"

Upon seeing my sardonic expression, he nodded and said "Right." Four cast his eye around the studio, apparently looking for Tris, "Shower," I inform him.

"Tell me everything, Four," I urge. I stoop at the foot of bed, my hand searching under the mattress for cigarettes, unsuccessful, I dig around in my bag still coming up empty. Four, too familiar with my preoccupation with tobacco to be concerned, he took a dining chair over to the window knowing I would join him momentarily. "Drink?" I offer, "Please, and water" he nodded. I'm impressed with his roundabout way of indicating his preference for alcohol.

Four sipped his spiced wine and got straight down to business, "How is she?" he asked, "Alive," I reply rather more severely than I intended, he purses his lips and continues, "Stage Three testing," he stated. "Hardly a priority, surely?" I am immediately aware of my defensiveness, "Sorry, Four, I am not used to being on this end of proceedings." He nods, understanding, "You know the value of _need to know_, Tori," and I nod resignedly, accepting his terms. Four lets out a long sigh, and precedes, "I know this is asking a lot, but our position - the position of the alliance, is predicated on Tris passing the final test."

I staunch my immediate reaction, I have to employ my thinking brain, I remind myself. I can't help thinking that Tris really ought to be part of this discussion but Four's reminder of need to know prompts me to caution. I think over his words. Four's message reveals that this sentiment has been discussed and accepted as part of the formal strategy of the alliance. I trust that these issues have been carefully weighed in consideration of the apparently increasing complicated state of affairs. The alliance was already concerned about how to respond to the increasingly dark and dangerous nature of Dauntless culture, necessarily mediating our own immediate safety with the needs of the future of our faction.

Add to that yet another more perilous concern. I eye Four closely. He looks straight back at me but I know he can't read me. I have never been faced with a more delicate and volatile situation. I love Tris and would give everything to protect her, my life is no sacrifice. But there is something yet more precious to preserve. Something in which her life is no sacrifice. I am still staring at Four, no longer aware of my drink or the cigarette burning away between my fingers. I have a strong conviction to communicate something to Four. But how.

I raise my index finger between us indicating my need for still more time before I can respond. I stand up looking around the room, I need something, some idea, some inspiration. Four too, stands and stretches his tall frame, he heads into the kitchen and helps himself to more wine. I look out of the window, channeling Tris' acute sagacity, I walk along the window ledge and as I turn to pace back in the opposite direction I run my finger along the sill. It is so dusty - I wonder how I have been able to ignore it for so long. The filthy, greasy dust balls up like a sticky cobweb and clings to my finger. "Four," I called out, he strides over to me, observing my filthy but stationary finger.

"About Tris and final stage testing, Four," I begin, "It's complicated." "Yes," he nods, "But we can protect her, Tori." "No," I shake my head, "It's not that, it's more complicated than that," I turn my eyes on him, willing him to make the connection I know he cannot make unassisted. Even if he did, he would be unable to confirm it. He is searching my face, his eyes peering earnestly into mine, his mind trying to unravel the enigma. I deliberately move my gaze to my finger, Four's eyes follow mine. I lean forward and trace a capital D into the dust and remove my hand, rubbing the dust from my finger onto my pants.

I stand patiently, telepathically willing Four to puzzle it out. He stares at the D for a very long time, his brow furrowed. Finally, he brings his own index finger to the right hand side of the D and traces a lowercase i. I don't respond. To the i he adds a v. Savagely, I swipe away the dreadful evidence wishing I could likewise obliterate the oppressive implication. But Four has received the message as clearly as if I had shouted it from the roof. We look at each other again, and I know that Four knows that the stakes have just been raised to a critical new level.

What Four meant earlier when he said that the alliance was dependent upon Tris passing initiate testing, was that Tris' unmitigated Dauntless membership legitimises the claims of the alliance. Particularly in view of the recent assault upon her. This challenge is precarious enough to consider on its own. Discovery of her divergence, by either Dauntless Leadership or the general public, will serve to authorise the very system that attacked her in the first place. She will be as good as dead and so will the alliance.

This new revelation renders further conversation moot. Before Four takes his leaves, I tap on the bathroom door and ask Tris if she wants to join us. She shakes her head adamantly. "Four," I ask returning, "How safe are we here?" "I need some context," he replies diplomatically. I indicate the new weapons piled up in the corner and say, "I am not sure what to make of this delivery?" Four gives me a strangled sort of look before he opens the door, and says, "Not safe enough to eat in the mess," and beats a hasty retreat.

I lock the door immediately and grab a fist full of wet rags and scrub down the entire length of the window sill, hoping to eradicate the evidence of my betrayal suddenly and the whole terrible reality. I stood plumb in the middle of the window, leaning my knuckles on the sill, and gazed out into the world that seemed sadly inaccessible and so very far away. My eyes resisted the urge to return to the section of the sill where I am sure I can still see the Div. I knew I wasn't seeing it with my eyes but my conscience. Not even feeling Tris' arms circle my waist eased my upset.


	16. Chapter 16 - Two steps forward

Tori and Tris - Chapter Sixteen - Two steps forward

I stood for a long time, letting Tris hold me, I had nothing to say and she didn't ask. I leaned back into her, placing my hands over hers and she rested her chin on my shoulder. A less perceptive pair of eyes would have been deceived by my calm exterior but Tris seemed completely aware of my inner turbulence, and more valuable still willing to accept me in all my various dispositions. It makes no sense to mentally slog through problems when I feel confident that Tris' logical mind would be able to see the solution in a moment.

"What do you think it says that a stash weapons, such as that, has been made available to us?" I ask her signalling to the pile in the corner by the training mats. Tris leaned up on her toes and kissed my cheek, and then wandered away into the kitchen, she surveyed the labels of a number of wine bottles and selecting one with an image of grapes on the front. She raised it in my direction, "Can I open this?" she asked. I nodded and decided to open one of my new tobacco pouches. As though previously arranged, we gathered our supplies and met on the floor at the bottom of the bed. Tris brought two glasses and the bottle, and something in a bowl from the fridge.

While Tris was clearly still considering her response to my first question, I pushed on with the next, "Also, you should know that I'm fantasising about executing a local terrain reconnaissance mission." "Ha," she said quickly, "That's what you're fantasising about?" She pressed home her point by squeezing my thigh. "Oh well, entertaining the option of, is that better?" I said, laughing. "Not at all," flirted Tris, "I'm very keen to hear about your fantasies," But she couldn't look me in the eye as she said it. "You can take the girl out of Abnegation but you can't take the Abnegation out of the girl," I teased her.

I methodically rolled at least a dozen fags, reluctant to light up while Tris was eating. "In my opinion, the weapons acknowledge imminent danger. They are all close combat weapons. And offensive." Tris' words revealed something about the way her mind works and that is as useful to me as her conclusion, I fervently hope that exposure to her logical abilities will rub off on me. "Go on," she said, scraping the bottom of the bowl with her spoon and being preoccupied, I sparked the lighter and held it to the smoke held between my lips. The moment I realised what I had done, I checked her empty bowl and said "sorry," Tris sat her bowl to one side and reaching over took the ciggie out of my fingers and gave it a little puff herself. She didn't cough but she screwed up her face and gave it back.

Unlike the relatively carefree night of the luxury sweets, tonight was considerably more sombre, but no less pleasant. Tris held my hand in both of hers, her fingers traced my skin and her eyes made familiar to her all my little wrinkles, freckles and scars, she studied my knuckles and then turned my hand over and looked at the lines and marks on my palm and fingers. "What would be the purpose of the recon?" she asked thoughtfully. "I suspect we are being guarded," I shrug lightly. "Did Four say so?" she asked. "You would be surprised at how little Four says," "Not after spending a week with you," She quipped, I couldn't help but smile and shake my head.

I offer my glass for a refill, which she grants and tops hers off, likewise. Neither of us spoke again before both glasses were again empty. At which point Tris saids "You do realise, Tori, that I have been waiting two full days for you to kiss me?" "I cannot pretend to be astonished," I said, not giving her an inch. Unwilling to be thwarted, Tris raised herself and swinging a leg over both of mine she straddled my thighs, she took my face in both her hands and looked into my eyes, "Last chance," she said. "I'm good," I replied. She lowered her lips and pressed them gently but firmly, to mine.

That exquisite kiss stopped time. I am entirely at the mercy of this bewitching young woman. It was hardly my first kiss, but it was the first that seemed to draw every ounce of oxygen out of my body. I am ever aware of Tris' inexperience and inherent modesty. But I cannot resist her at this moment, mindful of her ribs I place my hands on her hips, I pulled her in closely and slowly deepened the kiss. We sat there oblivious to the hard floor, completely lost in each other, for God knows how long, during which time we became rather well acquainted with each others' lips, mouths, throats and necks.

Eventually and all too soon, we tore ourselves away breathlessly, giddy, with stars in our eyes. When I could be sure to speak without embarrassing myself, I said, "I hope it was worth waiting for?" I note with a certain measure of pride that this was the first time I had ever been able to silence Tris. We fell asleep holding each other which was more than compensation for having to sleep with clothes on. I woke twice to Tris experiencing night terrors, but sleeping next to her, I was able to wake her before she got too deep into the dream. She was more susceptible to my attempts to comfort her, which I know not what to attribute this.


	17. Chapter 17 - War games

Tori and Tris - Chapter Seventeen - War games

I woke early and rolled quietly out of bed, in mission mode. In the bathroom I plaited the clumps of dreadlocks I have worn forever, I put black stripes under each eye - more for effect than for purpose. I pulled on my full length cargos, a thick pair of socks and my newest military boots, they need wearing in anyway. I clomped around searching for my special good luck reconnaissance tank top which is code for wanting Tris to wake up and join me in war games preparations. There were several tank tops, but they were neither special nor good luck and may or may not have ever been worn on a recon mission.

I searched through the mountains of Dauntless equipment and supplies that I had collected over the years; boots, belts, hats, canteens, running shoes. Tris has been watching me from the doorway, I turn my back to her immediately conscious on her behalf. "Recon?" she asked, apparently amused at my war paint. I pull a shirt, any shirt over my head. "Yep!" I said with more conviction than I felt, I put a well worn pair of boots in front of Tris with a pair of thick socks sticking out of each one. I pecked her lips, flicked on some music and went to the bathroom where I searched furiously through the laundry hamper, knowing perfectly well that the tank top was not there. I felt strangely pleased with the mess I was making.

I filled two canteens, I found a pair of torches, fresh batteries, knee pads, sunglasses and a range of rucksacks. I turned up the volume, I finally found the tank top and pulled it on. I put on more layers and then the knife vest on and pulled the velcro tabs firmly. I was beginning to suspect that I was going overboard but I was enjoying myself thoroughly and feeling surprisingly free of the oppressive fears that I had long been occupying my mind. I had binoculars, cap lamps and bullet vests, elbow pads, walkie talkies and gloves. I was becoming increasingly frantic and loading more and more stuff by the door - I was still flinging clothes - clean clothes, dirty clothes, all over the place. I sensed I was becoming a little hysterical.

I saw her sitting on the window sill looking rather distressed, the boots with the socks I gave her were sitting on the chair Four had used the day before. I stopped, my heart turning uncomfortably at the sight of her unhappy frame - looking impossibly small in the large window frame. I am immediately sorry, guilty for being so self indulgent, I was supposed to be taking care of Tris and here I was scaring the crap out of her. I turned off the music and approached her penitently. She accepted me without reservation, drawing me between her legs and holding me to her. It took a couple of minutes for me to regain my equilibrium at which point Tris gently pulls back to look at me, rubbing her hands up and down my arms. "What is it?" she asked, her eyes, as ever, surveying me keenly.


	18. Chapter 18 - The enemy within

Tori and Tris - Chapter Eighteen - The enemy within

The information about Initiate testing wrenched itself from somewhere deep inside me. And there was the terrible truth of my betrayal of her. I closed my eyes, touched my forehead to hers and I said it straight out, speaking rather quickly, desperate to get the poisonous truth out of mind and my body. "It's not safe to leave the studio. They want you to take the Phase Three Initiate Exam. And I told Four that you are Divergent." I screw my eyes up tight and wait for it. Certain that whatever it is it could not possibly make me feel any worse than I already do. I am so worried about causing Tris more pain, increasing the target on her back.

As it turns out, of course, my information was nothing that Tris had not been long considering; her physical development, the red line, divergence, testing, Dauntless culture, survival. It breaks my heart, as much for her as for Dauntless. How had my beloved family become such a menace, my home such a death trap. Tris was already fully cognisant of the opportunity the attack upon her provided the alliance. She laid it out in her usual style; don't take the test - become Factionless; take the test and fail - Factionless. Divergence is detected - they will kill her; if she passes - they will kill her.

As if that isn't dire enough. I couldn't let it go until I was sure that she understood that I had betrayed her. I couldn't go on with that unspoken secret between us. "I heard you," she replied. "You're not not furious?" I asked amazed. "Rocks and hard places," she shrugs, "I need the Alliance, the Alliance needs me. If my divergence is discovered - the Alliance is dead in the water." "Could you hear me and Four?" I asked dumbfounded, but I knew we had barely spoken at all. "No, but it's not news, is it? Now if we are done here..." she pulls me to her for a series of wonderful kisses.

I thought she had been asleep, it was the early hours of the morning when I heard her speaking very softly, almost regretfully she asked, "Have you ever thought of leaving?" I knew then that Tris was considering fleeing Dauntless. Have I? I sigh and roll onto my side to face her, I take her hand and kiss and caress her fingers. She is impossibly young. She is beautiful, and strong despite her injuries - and will be stronger yet, because of them. If this is all I ever share with Tris it will be more than enough. My love for her overfills my heart.

"The problem isn't geographical. My enemy is tyranny. My only weapon is resistance. And, when the tyranny within Dauntless is resolved, I will then turn my attention to the tyranny of Chicago." She watches me, weighing my words. "But that is not all on you, Tori, what about you? What do you want?" "What do you mean," I ask, not comprehending. "If I had stayed in Abnegation," she doesn't say "as you advised" but I hear it reverberating around my psyche, regardless. "I would have been married by now, more or less. I would have been considered to have exercised my life's purpose. No one would have ever asked me 'what about you?' People would assume that I was happy, never wishing to be anywhere else. Anyone else. But you, Tori, you are free, as free as any of us will ever be. Don't you want something, between the resisting - something just for you?"

"No, Tris." I shake my head. "I am only ever as free as the most oppressed of us. It is the character of tyranny to be increasingly rapacious. Wherever I am, whatever the conditions of my life - while soever I live - tyranny is always at my heels. Directly or indirectly. I understand if you want to leave, Tris, I cannot pretend that the danger you face is not very real, urgent even. Neither can I be sure that I have more time than you, Tris, but I feel compelled, everyday, to resist. To participate in activities that make it possible for others to resist. If my time is over already, I hope I have left something - a little light in this darkness for those who come after."

"Oh, Tori," Tris cries out her eyes wet with tears, takes my face and says "I love you so very much, Tori." In a moment she is kissing me, passionately, her hands desperately searching for me. I return her embrace, following her lead as she begins to rid us of our clothes, we kick off the covers both keen to remove everything that prevented us from achieving the kind of closeness we desire, that we need. I am confident that Tris doesn't anticipate feeling the cold. She slides her leg over mine and drags my body ever closer, our breasts are pressed against each other, our tongues are ardently teasing each other and I don't even notice when our bodies start moving together in that age old rhythm of pleasure and passion.

I untangle my fingers from her hair and slide them down her arm to her waist and back up her stomach to her breast. I cup it, firmly and seek out her nipple, thoroughly enjoying the sounds escaping her throat. She follows my lead and begins touching me as well, she becomes fascinated by the cause and effect relationship between her movements and my responses. I lower my hands to her buttocks and pull her to me so that our secret places are in direct contact, my desire is unmistakable but I know this is Tris' first time and I am compelled to seek consent. "Tris? There is no rush -" She stops kissing me only long enough to confirm, "oh, yes there is."

I roll the pair of us over carefully trying to protect her ribs, and lay Tris on her back, I part her thighs with my knee and slide my wetness onto hers, and I hear her obvious pleasure. I take it very slowly, and try to make Tris take it slowly too, I distract her by kissing her ear, down her neck, across her throat. I tease her nipples, one between my lips and the other between my fingers and Tris is no longer able to bide her time, no longer willing to postpone her climax. She grabs my jaw, none too gently either, she eyeballs me "Tori, stop fucking around" she rasps and I give her what she wants. I kiss her deeply and ride her clit thoroughly and as I feel her explode, I let go too - I am barely conscious but I manage to fall beside her rather than on top of her.

Neither of us can move, I can only just manage to shift my hand several inches to touch hers. We laid there beside each other; holding hands, naked, spent, panting, glowing. Rendering Tris unable to think or speak is a very great compliment. After several minutes I notice she has goosebumps so I kiss her shoulder, haul myself up and cover her with the sheet, and all the blankets she was accustomed to sleeping with. "Come in?" she pleaded, but I knew I couldn't last 30 seconds in that broiling nest, so I tucked all the blankets in around her tightly and snuggle up to her form, and laid my arm over the top.

When I think she has nodded off, I roll on to my back, Tris rolls immediately into my side, head on my shoulder and her arm around my waist. I hold her, combing back her hair, I kiss her forehead, and whisper "and I love you, so very much, Tris Prior." I was drifting off to sleep feeling tingly in all the right places and relishing sleeping with no clothes on when I recalled the words Tris had used during our tryst. She had said "Tori, stop fucking around," I grinned broadly. I had never heard her use strong language before - I am equal parts amused and aroused, squeezing my thighs I allow myself to drift off to sleep.

I woke feeling supremely joyful and energised with a renewed sense of purpose; I attribute the first with making love with Tris and the second to my rousing speech about resistance. I showered thoroughly, even scrubbing the bottom of my feet! I set the kettle to boil, opened the windows and pulled on knickers and a bra - happy that the long days of constantly being overdressed are a thing of the past.

I began picking up and putting away not only all the things I had dragged out and flung around yesterday, but the bits and pieces that had accumulated as a result of two people cohabiting in a small space, Luka's delivery and to be fair - all the shit I have clearly collected and failed to give an appropriate home. I brew the coffee, leaving one by Tris with a kiss on the lips, she was apparently reluctant to admit that last night had been replaced by this morning. I sincerely hope that that is, at least, in small part due to me.


	19. Chapter 19 - Good for the goose

Tori and Tris - Chapter Nineteen - Good for the goose

Tris communicated that she had been sincerely affected by my expressed sentiments and convinced by my argument. I pointed out that it was not my intention to convince anybody, least of all her, but was simply explaining my position. Tris agreed, but nevertheless was determined to commit, likewise, to the resistance of tyranny. She had decided to return to life in the compound, return to training, to her cohort and her preparations for the initiation examination. She faltered when she asked if we would continue to be together.

"Life in Dauntless is less regulated and less orderly than Abnegation and relationships can be impermanent and somewhat erratic," I explained. Triss avoided my eyes suspecting a great disappointment. "Tris, look at me," I lift her chin, "I love you, Tris, I love you more than I thought it was possible." "But?" Tris asks shakily, unable to bear the anticipated heartbreak. "No but," I am anxious to reassure her, and her eyes are seeking an explanation in mine.

"I will have you in my life, in my bed every chance I can get, Tris." I tried to reassure her. "Tori, you are both drawing me in and keeping me out with that kind of talk. Just speak plainly," said Tris. "I thought I had made it plain. I want you, I love you, Tris. It is you who are unsure about our being together. Tris, you are young, your life is just beginning, you're considering defecting from Dauntless - there are many possibilities and I don't want to be the reason that you don't…"

"Tsk," Tris hushes me, frowning. "Oh, you poor old lady, such a burden," she says taking me by surprise, and digging her finger into my chest "We only have a few years left together," now poking me randomly, "then you will die of old age and," tickling me, "I will finally be free to run amok! To have endless lovers." She is laughing, thinking herself very entertaining. Adopting a solemn pose, raising her hand, "I hereby promise that if you linger longer than convenient, I will snuff you out." She plants a kiss on my cheek, bursts out laughing, and runs into the training area to grab a pair of fighting sticks.

Returning with speed Tris ambushed me, whacking me about the shins and taunting me. Still in my underwear and needing to defend myself, I bring my legs up to my chest and try to catch the fast whipping sticks with my hands, but she is showing no mercy. I charge her, springing forward and wrapping my arms around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides, I push her up against the wall trying to restrict her movement. She is still swinging the sticks st but is not satisfied with the limited range, Tris drops her knees and slips through my arms to the floor, tackling my legs and bringing me tumbling down to the floor, by her.

Tris is fighting both against her pain and restricted movement, as well as me, and we both know that even disregarding injuries, I am fitter, stronger and far more highly skilled than Tris. Tris is thrashing about like a wild animal trying to evade capture. She alternates between trying to flip me and then wriggling out of my reach. I take pity on her and end it quickly before she really does herself some serious damage. I pin each of her ankles to the floor with my strong feet, her hands have been secured above her head she is still bucking beneath me so I lay my body over hers and slowly press her into the floor until she is immobilised.

"Do you submit?" she asks arching her eyebrow. "Do I?" I ask incredulously, "I have _you_," I remind her. She raises her lips to mine and kisses me, softly, several times, when she deepens the kiss I relax my hold on her - fully anticipating her to arc up! She did not, but continued to kiss me. "Not such an old burden after all?" She says and moves her lips to my jaw, my neck and up to my ear. I was so distracted by her lips and feeling her breath on my skin, my voice was husky and I rasp out "I don't recall saying I was old?" "You're right, Tori," she said returning her lips to mine, "I'm right? Oh, This is a trap." She brought her hands down to frame my face, her fingers tracing my skin and driving me crazy.

Looking into my eyes. "You said the Abnegation could not be taken out of me and you were right. I am a simple girl. I don't need multiple lovers, Tori, I am perfectly happy with the one I have." She gives me a few more convincing kisses, "And believe me I have no intention of cramping your style - you have your job, your Leadership, your friends, your _resistance_." The last word she says a whisper, but not irreverently. "I will go back to the compound, to my own friends, I will pass the test, get a job and learn how to _resist_."

She looks at me while she kisses me. "I know you said that there was nothing for you but resistance, Tori, and I know I don't understand everything about being lesbians but I want to be with you. The way other couples are together, to come home to each other, to love each other. Not now, maybe, but in time. Is it possible? Am I wrong, Tori?" "No, Tris, not wrong at all. I want you so much," She traces my bottom lip with her tongue which makes me shiver, she slides it into my mouth and I moan deeply, "and you love me?" "And I love you very, very much Tris."


	20. Chapter 20 - Safety zone - blown

Tori and Tris - Chapter Twenty - Safety zone, blown

Wasting no more time, we dressed and prepared for the day - me for the parlour and Tris for the Compound. I can't say I am not terribly afraid of losing her. Of her incurring harm - whether it be Eric tormenting her, or an unintentional injury let alone something more sinister. I am scared shitless, I am powerless. This is the price of love.

There was no way she would be up for any physical training but simply being seen is resistance in itself. I must be more one eyed than even I thought because I can't separate the two. I have always been convinced, rightly or wrongly, that the value of one's life under tyranny is only worth being measured in degrees of resistance. And whilst that's my call as far as my own life is concerned - I suspect it's probably going to far to apply that standard to another person. Even if that person is Tris, or perhaps especially if that person is Tris.

Still, I can't help thinking about the value of Tris being seen out in public, with her faded black eyes, her bald patch, her fragile body and heightened startle reflex. Everybody she looks at will be forced to make a choice. I can afford to think like this because I don't think there will be any attempt to harm her. Firstly, nobody will be expecting her to turn up and secondly there will be so many eyes on her that it will not be possible.

We set off from the studio together, hands deep in our pockets, eyes firmly on the ground before us, silently lost in our own thoughts. My mind was obsessively collecting examples of possible harms and threats to Tris but I had firmly forbidden myself to mention a single warning or piece of advice. Tris isn't stupid. I was aware of the growing attention we were receiving as we got closer to the Pit, I spared a couple of curt nods to familiar faces.

When we reached my turn off to the Parlour, I paused. "I'm happy to walk with you to the pit?" Tris squared her shoulders and put on a brave face, "I've got this," "You know where to find me," I gave her hand a small squeeze, I was unsure whether to give her the kiss I knew she wanted but Tris, never backward in coming forward, took from me a soft kiss conveying my tender devotion. "Have a great day," I said, trying for a bright smile and went on my way hoping to impart more confidence than I felt.

For myself I was pleased to be outside the walls of my studio, to be breathing in the fresh air, I felt like running far and fast. I was genuinely pleased to be back at work, part of the community, to be pleasantly employed and part of my team again. I was welcomed back generously by the people who knew and loved me best, my people, who had missed me and had been concerned for me. I was hugged, supplied with coffee, invited out the back to bond over endless cigarettes, people could not wait to update me on all the news - both Parlour news and news with more general appeal. No one introduced issues relating to Triss, neither the assault she had been subjected to nor our unconfirmed relationship.

Due less to my return to work than Tris' extraordinary return to the Compound - there was a general heightened excitement, an electrified social buzz. For my part, the parlour became unexpectedly colonized by curious parties who were prepared to pay for and suffer the pain of a tattoo for the opportunity of being part of something exciting or the chance of learning something of interest. Some of the younger transfers, or those less discreet or perhaps even unfamiliar with the who's who Dauntless made general references to either having heard or seen the return of Tris. This gladdened my heart to learn that she was going ok, that she was generally well regarded and had indeed elicited sentiments of resistence.

I went to the mess for lunch and couldn't help looking around for Tris, I gave her what I hoped was a circumspect wink but happy to see her surrounded by her peers had no intention of imposing. I joined some of my own cohort who were obviously very pleased to have me amongst them again. I didn't have much to say for myself but was happy to listen to all their news and conversation. Before I could finish my meal, I was made aware of a lull in the general hullabaloo of the mess, I felt eyes on me from all over and laid down my cutlery preparing myself for whatever was coming.

I actually felt the chill of Eric's shadow as he leaned over my person from behind, placing his military boot at the base of my spine on my bench, invading my personal space like a lusty irrepressible predator. "Tori, I am so sorry to hear you have been, _unwell_. We are all pleased to have you back. You have been away so long and we got along so well without you - I was beginning to think I would have to replace you, _permanently_." Although he spoke in a low tone, at my ear, I have no problem believing he had achieved his aim and been clearly heard by the all at the surrounding tables.

I am not afraid of Eric. He could be ripping out my heart and I would not be afraid of Eric. It's why he hates Tris. She is entirely immune to his only source of power - fear. Without turning, I affected a little cough, "Oh, Eric, I can, of course, be replaced, just another happy little cog in the Dauntless machine. However, don't get too close, it's entirely possible I could make you, _unwell_." The moment was palpable. "Careful" he said straightening up and removing his boot. I can be sure he has taken himself off when the chilling temperature of the room is tempered by a measured return of friendly relations in the vicinity.


	21. Chapter 21 - Power of legions

Chapter Twenty one - Power of legions

I was unwilling to run away after work lest Eric think his menacing performance had any impact on me, I hoped that Tris was likewise enjoying the company and friendship of people who love and care for her. When I felt a subtle longing for home, I finished up my drink and began the familiar trek back to the building of my studio. Before I could get very far someone fell into step beside me, I started considerable but Four placed a hand on my forearm "Sorry," he said, "I should have whistled."

"Business or pleasure?" I asked laughing, pleased to see him. He reads my code - I am asking him if he is walking me home so that I don't end up dead! "I've come to pay my debts, He said, flashing me a look at the bag hanging over his shoulder and avoiding my question. I didn't mind however because I suddenly realised it didn't actually matter. "How was work?" he asked. "Excellent!" He looked rather dubious, but nodded and smiled, "Must be nice to be back." "Eric wanted to have lunch with me, but there wasn't room at the table," I laughed out loud. Four, surprised at my discretion, but amused, he gave a wry grin and said "I heard."

Four and I were having beers at the window when Tris let herself in. My heart did a little flip, not only to see her but to know that my house had become her home. She greeted Four warmly, kissed the top of my head and rather than accepting the beer Four held out to her, poured herself a glass of wine. He didn't bat an eye at confirmation of our romantic connection. "How was your day?" I asked, "Excellent!" she said and while she dragged over a dining chair, I batted away Four's arch eyebrow with a look professing perfect innocence.

As soon as Four called it a night, Tris and I fell on each other as though we had been separated for a month. She had been tired after her unusually busy day, so I lifted her against her protests and carried her to the bed where I kissed her reverently as I removed her clothes. I kissed her mouth and neck until her chest and breasts were uncovered and then transferred my attention there. And when I got her out of her pants, I kissed her belly and continued moving down, concerned that Tris would be feeling self conscious as I moved lower still I kept both hands on her breasts hoping she would be too distracted until the last moment.

Rather than kissing her thighs, making my way slowly and teasing her, I found her most sensitive spot directly, and I kissed her there, softly but firmly. By the time she realised what I had achieved she was far too bewitched by the effects to consider refusing. I helped myself to her, wrapping her legs over my shoulders and pulling one of her hands into my hair, I licked her gently, from the top of her hooded clit to her wet opening and back again. I circled around her clit, coaxing it out. I was amply rewarded by her in turns stroking and pulling my hair, bucking and throwing her hips and sighing and moaning and saying my name in the most seductive tones. I swear I was closer to coming than she was.

I paused only briefly to ask Tris for permission to use my fingers inside her and while I think she would have given me almost anything at that moment, I entered her slowly and delicately. I touched her deeply, circling her cervix and kneading her front wall, I found a small patch that was less smooth and kneaded it slowly until she pulled my hair which I understood as a command for increased pressure and tempo. I complied, matching what I was doing inside her with what I was doing to her outsides. I knew she was very close to reaching her climax, rather than continuing to work her harder or faster I maintained a steady pace and made her come and get it. And she did.

I felt like a god generously distributing amazing and valuable gifts to my beloved. And I guess I am, for now. But Tris genuinely loves me, and while maybe not tonight, she will enjoy learning to love me, savour exercising the same power over me, as I do just now, over her. And I will relish letting her. I helped her to come down, her body twitching and convulsing, alternatively tightly strung then tranquil and boneless, humming and breathing heavily. I withdrew my fingers subtly, raised myself, carefully pushing her heavy legs together, rolling her on to side a little and pulling up her mountains of bedclothes. Tucking her in as had become my habit, I curled my body around hers, smoothing her hair and kissing the back of her neck.

I lay like that for a long time thinking about how good it felt to be on the other side of my confinement. I am still feeling aroused, which is in itself quite a pleasant feeling if one can only appreciate it without considering it as a problem to be resolved. Reflecting on the day, I am reminded of the person I feel like when I am with my people, like how I felt when I came to Dauntless - as though I have the power of legions at my back. I thought about the friendly knock, the covert transactions, the coded conversations, the muted sentiments. Not the actions of someone who had the power of legions. I fell asleep before I could complete the thought.


	22. Chapter 22 - In the balance

Chapter Twenty two - In the balance

I woke early to find that Tris and I had turned over in the night, as though we were one unit. Where I had been at her back with an arm over her, she was now at mine with and hand holding my breast. I was aware of the enormous mound of blankets on top of her, Tris was like a turtle with a soft shell. Conversely, I could sleep naked all year round with nothing but a sheet - except for only the very coldest nights, where I covered my nakedness with only one extra blanket, even then I would often have to stick out a foot.

"You're awake?" I was surprised to hear her voice, revealing that Tris is also awake, I raised her fingers to my lips and replaced them to my breast. "What are you thinking?" she asks me. I had woken up somehow still halfway through the thought I hadn't finished the night before, it was unclear, the harder I tried to recall it, the more elusive it became. I was vaguely aware of its essence and I knew it was somehow connected to something to do with Eric.

I rolled over, pressing myself right into Tris' body, I tucked my face into the crook of her neck, I pulled her arms around me and tucked my legs right up so that I became a small round figure. I wasn't upset or sad, I just wanted to feel completely wrapped up, taken care of, comforted. Tris drags a sheet over me, gathering my hair away from my face, stroking my back and arms with soft hands and long caresses, she kisses my forehead and it feels so delicious. If my mind was less busy I can imagine myself drifting back off to sleep.

After several long moments, It clicked. It seemed to me that the Alliance had been employing covert tactics which had somehow contributed to the conditions that allowed our enemies to survive and thrive, employing the use of increasingly overt tactics against us. That an attempted murder had occurred in a public place and instead of loudly demanding justice - I had disappeared. Withdrawn my light and allowed their expanded darkness to flourish. No, I was not upset, I was not even angry. I was coming to a strategy, but I would need help.

Pulling back, I said "Here it is," Tris smiled at my opening, like me, she was also gratified to find that our relationship was evolving under the principles of respect, equality and genuine partnership. She sat up cross legged, pulling the blankets around her shoulders and adopted a sort of conspiratorial attitude, but I knew she wasn't making fun of me. My thoughts spilled out of me, I told her about the power of legions, and the covert tactics which inadvertently enabled such tyranny. I was hardly distracted by Tris when she leaned over to ferret out the tobacco pouch, she opened it to find a number of already rolled ciggies, she lit one, grimaced and handed it over.

I also tried to communicate my thoughts about Eric, I told her about his menacing threat, of which Tris had already been made aware. This line of my thinking had yet to be completely formulated but something was nagging away at me. I repeated my response so that Tris could understand exactly; "I can, of course, be replaced, just another happy little cog in the Dauntless machine. However, don't get too close," cough cough, "it's entirely possible I could still make you, _unwell_."

Eric is a dangerous psychopath, no doubt, but also a replaceable cog, not to say that I feel sorry for him but perhaps that my resistance needs to be refocused on the machinery of tyranny rather than its replaceable administrators. Yes, I hate him, I want to silence him. But, I draw the line at violence except in self defence - and that thought brings its own complications, for example; he publicly threatened to replace me - _permanently_. I understand that as a threat to life, do I defend myself now or wait until the knife is at my back?

Tris allowed me to get to the end of my series of thoughts but refused to let me go further. "Darling," she called me softly, tucking my hair behind my ear, "This can't all be resolved this morning. And Tori, this can't all be resolved by you, nor should it be." "What do you mean?" I asked. "In the same way that Eric can not be the problem - you can not be the solution." I didn't fully understand but I thought I might in time. "You called me darling." I said, "Darling," she said again kissing my cheek.

"Like you, I haven't completed my thought process, but intuitively, I think the solution is something to do with balance. Tyranny isn't an independent entity that arrived to live among us, that can be rooted out. It's an expression of the human condition, and so the solution might need to address that rather than individuals and structures. I don't know... that requires more thinking." Tris was so clever, so logical and articulate, even I can almost follow her.

She continued, "But I've been giving this thought more time; the point of resisting tyranny seems to be lifting oppression and encouraging personal freedom. For what? So that people can, I don't know, get married, have babies, take jobs they enjoy, paint a picture, plant some flowers? If we are 'preserving the tradition for the coming generations', as you say, then maybe we should get married and plant some flowers too."


	23. Chapter 23 - Lighting a candle

Chapter Twenty Three - Lighting a candle

For the following weeks Tris and I led a relatively settled life, I went to work and Tris went to the compound. Although her ribs still gave her too much trouble to train in the pit, we trained together at home and due to her perseverance and determination she developed steadily. Tris found other ways to improve her skills and increase her value as a Dauntless initiate, she participated in phase two training with her cohort and with careful and strategic restraint she made only incremental progress.

Tris also invested considerable time and care to cultivate her personal relationships with her closest friends; Christina and Will had visited the studio frequently and were finally learning to relax around me. She was already a popular member in her cohort, other initiates were drawn to strength of character and courage defence of those who were made targets of unfair treatment or bullying. Tris had apparently been making other connections in Dauntless as well, made evident to me when she shyly presented me with a gift - beads for my dreadlocks.

I have been as happy as I have ever been in my life, I recalled the day I had wished Tris happy and then immediately thought it an impossible proposition. It was of course in large part due to having Tris in my life, who was in herself a ray of sunshine, but not entirely. I seem to have experienced somewhat of an adjustment in perspective, some might call it smelling the roses.

I was working as hard as ever and loving every minute. I made more of an effort with my relationships as well, apparently I my change in perspective was immediately obvious to those about me, and appreciated. Who'd have thought? I began mindfully redistributing the excess of resources we had accumulated which made more space for Triss to put her stamp on the place as well. I made her a gift as well. I had arranged to procure some sunflower seeds from Amity, I planted them in a large glass jar and sat it right in the centre of our window. When Tris saw it and asked me what it was all about, I smiled, completely chuffed with myself, and said "Planting some flowers." I was amply rewarded for my efforts that night.

Other changes were likewise taking place. Initiates, independently of each other, began resisting orders they felt directly contributed to a culture of bullying and intimidation and while they showed no aversion to training they used Fight club for sparring only. Eric tried to crack down and crack heads the moment he began to sense a loss of control and influence. Initiates continued to follow the directions of trainers and those in the Leadership Group they trusted, and although they attempted to continue to treat Eric and his cronies with respect, the effort was entirely undermined when they were unable to register the fear they once felt.

At the same time other Dauntless citizens began to remember another version of Dauntless and consider opportunities to bridge the gap between that and this. It became quite obvious to a great very many otherwise ordinary people that the choice was between two flavours of fear; fear of change and fear of remaining the same. To continue watching and informing was to continue to hand power to those who would not hesitate to wield it.

To embrace resistance was to accept the risk of sustaining presently that which they feared would occur at some point in the future. The choice was logically comprehensible but fear doesn't operate on logic. As people made the choice to resist, it was as though a light was flicked on, one by one lights were going on all over the Compound.

The two remaining fellows suspected of assaulting Triss were shunned within Dauntless, one confessed and the other defected in the night. This further undermined the legitimacy and influence of those within the Leader Group who had been reluctant to seek justice. Many of them saw the writing on the wall and either dropped away from Leadership altogether or submitted to demands for democratic rather than authoritarian representation.

It might appear to be an anti climactic end to the story - but not if you were one of those initiates who would otherwise have been cut.


	24. Chapter 24 - Prologue

Chapter Twenty Four - Prologue

"Tori, Tori?" Tris was peering closely at our burgeoning sunflower seedling, beckoning me to the window. "Darling, what do you think this is?" I stood by her, screwing up my face in an effort to make sense of what I was seeing, "I don't know, get a fork or something." Tris raced to the kitchen and returned with a long handled fork and began cautiously digging at the foreign object that appeared to be growing out of the soil.

I tipped the jar gingerly to one side so Tris could get a good angle. She managed to loosen the soil about it, get a tyne under part of it, carefully prying it away from the seedling - a gold band slipped onto the fork and Tris stared at it utterly astounded. "Look" she said as though I could have missed seeing it, I stood the jar back in its original position.

I moved around behind Tris and wrapped my arms around her and kissed her neck, "You suggested getting married and planting flowers." She turned in my arms "You did this?" having only just comprehended that the ring hadn't made its way into the jar by accident. She shook and blew the soil clear, looked closely at the ring, put it on her engagement finger and a beautiful smile spread over her face. She had no words. "You don't mind that it's not new?" She put her arms around my neck and looked at it again over my shoulder, she shook her head. "I just like the idea that we will become a part of the heritage of this ring - inheriting the love of past wearers and infusing our love in it for the next couple."

"That's really lovely, Tori. I can't believe you planned this, its, its…" I briefly consider whether my ability to render Tris speechless was going to be rather hampered going forward, whether I may have just exhausted my capacity for pulling rabbits out of my hat. But I couldn't give the matter too much further thought because I became rather preoccupied. Tris kissed me, pouring into her kiss all the love and appreciation she felt for me, all the gratitude and hope she felt for life more generally.


	25. Chapter 25 - Twenty Two Point Two - Smut

Tori and Tris - Twenty Two Point Two - Bonus smut

Tris broke off the all consuming passionate kiss we had been sharing, one which rendered us wet, distracted and breathless. While I sank back onto the pillows, she sat up and crossed her legs, dragging her hair back from her face and trying to get her breath back. She coloured somewhat, flicking me an odd sort of look, "Tori," she began hesitatingly. I ran my hand along her thigh in what I hoped was a supportive, encouraging gesture. "Tori," she tried again, "I want to know how to make love to you the way you do me," she was a deeper shade of pink but resisted the urge to hide her embarrassment, "I frequently try to, but you always turn the focus back to me. Please, can you find a way to let me…" here she sort of tailed off.

I sat up, likewise crossing my legs directly opposite and placed my hands on her knees, "Tris, I am very satisfied with the way we are together, the things we do…" She cut me off saying, "No, Tori - I want to know, particularly, specifically, how to please you. You're not going to put me off, to avoid this." "I am, Tris" I reply somewhat surprised by her high emotion, "You think I am pissing in your pocket?" "Well," she began somewhat censured. I reach out to touch her cheek and shift a little closer, "I am telling you, ok?" "Oh, Sorry, Thank you" she murmured, shaking her head.

I inched closer and moved my fingers to her jaw and traced a line to her chin, tilting her face so that our eyes meet, I speak slowly, "I love the way you look at me. I love your kisses." I scoot forward until our knees are touching. "I love the closeness between us. The long make out sessions where I can never be sure whether it's going to evolve into something more or evaporate momentarily." I take one hand and place it at the base of my head, "I really like your hands in my hair." Tris is watching me, I know she is becoming increasingly aroused, as am I, but I am confident she will miss nothing.

I reach under Tris' knees and lift her legs, inching closer to her. I fold our legs so that one of mine is over and the other is under and drag her into me, my intention cannot be mistaken. "While I really like it when you kiss my neck, just here" and show her the particular spot beneath my chin and to one side, "But that cannot be compared to how I feel when you breathe near my ear," I take her other hand and hold her palm to my breast, I guide it firmly, rubbing it up and down slowly over my whole breast. My mouth is now dry and my voice is gravelly but I continue, "And _that _cannot be compared with having your tongue in my ear, which I can't stress enough is extremely, dangerously effective."

Tris begins dragging her nails slowly through my hair, in a slow repetitive motion that threatens to draw me into some kind of trance. I close the remaining space between us, our individual wetness, resulting from our earlier kissing and rolling around, becomes a single moist organism. In the moment we connect, nothing more can be said or heard, until we regain our equilibrium. Although neither of us move against the other, our excitement has taken a critical turn. We can each only manage to breathe in and out and observe the subtle yet distinct signs of our heightened arousal, we see our own desire in each other, our dilated pupils, flushed skin, shiny with perspiration.

I begin moving her hand over my breast again but the movement is subtle producing exquisite effects. I resist the urge to kiss her, to move against her because I know it will all be over immediately and I am intent on satisfying Tris' request for knowledge. "There is something else I enjoy very much, Tris. Under the bed - don't move now, there is a box." I move her hand against my breast so that as it moves up my nipple becomes caught in the web between her thumb and the side of her hand. Now, as the initiator of that particular action, I knew it was coming, but my breath catches regardless.

"There is a black latex dildo that I am fond of." I lean forward so slowly to drag my lips across hers without causing any friction between our lower extremities. "More often than not I enjoy being teased, having the power of its effects withheld. Having it dragged across my clit in uneven movements, threatening yet refusing to satisfy me." I kiss her again, a different kind of kiss, this one a sort of chaste, pressing together and holding for a moment.

I was either unable or unwilling to avoid creating the slightest friction between us, causing both the need to drag in several ragged breaths. "But there are other times, post orgasm particularly, when I like to have it driven into me roughly, deeply, without mercy - while your tongue is in my mouth" I press her thumb into the side of her hand crushing my nipple, and moving against my whole breast at the same time. I could come at any moment, I am so turned on, but I try to push on.

I reluctantly take her hand from my neck and position it on my waist, snaking it around my back where, to one side of the small of my back, is a tender spot. I curl her fingers and show her where to drag her nails which has the effect of causing me to buck my hips - the effect between us is electric. I am no longer willing to wait, I smack my mouth against hers and grab her ass with both hands lifting her, pulling her into me roughly.

We are equally ravenous for each other and greedy for relief, we are bucking and throwing, seeking out every possible source of friction, and searching desperately for each other's mouths. I can hear Tris' cries over the top of mine, "Tris, I cannot wait," I choke out and she breathes "Don't" into my ear and I explode. It takes me so suddenly that her name is torn from my throat and I cant even be sure that she has come as well. I seem to have no control over any part of my body, I cant open my eyes, I can't cease the slow, gentle repetitive movements I continue to make against her. I can feel Tris' hand on my neck and the other at my back holding me to her. I don't recall her making the adjustment but I am glad she has, else I suspect I may have floated away into the atmosphere, never to return.

When I finally stop moving, Tris disentangles her body from mine, taking care not to disturb my fragile recovery, she ducks under the bed and tugs forward the box, raking through it she finds what she is looking for. She drags the dildo across her own opening, making entirely sure that it will be well lubricated and moves to her knees before me. I lean back on my hands, pull her left hand round to the small of back to support me and I place my feet along side hers, digging my heels into the bed.

I am as prepared as I care to be for the anticipated assault being lovingly prepared for me. With my hand over hers, I show her how to locate my opening from the top rather than the bottom, avoiding any awkward encounters. Remembering every word of my very specific directions, Tris presses her hand into my back, taking my weight from my hands and bearing me easily across her thighs. She leans in, and as I am momentarily distracted by her tongue seeking entrance into my mouth, Tris slides the dildo straight into me in one long, swift movement.

Well, kill me now. I ride that dildo until I can no longer manage to maintain the rhythm I require, I throw myself back against the mattress pulling her forward, encouraging her to show me no mercy. I feel the tension building, I generously invite, that is to say, I nudge Tris' head down toward my clit and she needs no encouragement. She must have been paying closer attention than I anticipated, in her previous semi conscious raptures, because her technique was exquisite and the effects were sublime.

Without missing a beat with her instrument, her tongue easily found the surface immediately beneath my clit, and applied a soft but certain pressure. It was a feeling I was unfamiliar with, a sort of indirect stimulation that was wonderfully distracting and intoxicating. I began to resist moving my hips so that I could appreciate Tris's tongue just glancing the bottom of my clit, coaxing it out. It obeyed her, a shy, swollen, sensitive, volatile bead of nerves.

She licked me, her tongue wet and soft, round and round with increasing pressure and speed, whipping me into a frenzy. I began moving against her, I propped myself up on my elbows and scraped my nails against her scalp, watching the top of her head as she provided me with such generous, loving pleasure, "Tris, I am ready, baby, fuck me hard." She did and I subsequently ejactulated, fresh hot fluid spilling down her hand, she held her tongue against my clit feeling it release all its pent up tension, shivering and shuddering, like the rest of me, completely spent.

She slides out of me and like I have done for her, she covers me with a sheet and curls up against me, holding me, feeling extremely pleased with herself and very happy for me. When I can finally speak, I say "And that's how it's done." She showered me with affectionate little kisses, both a little high after the electrifying experience. "I'm not convinced," she started to say and unexpectedly ducked under the bed - alarmed, so thoroughly satiated I am entirely unable to consider any further action, I implore her, "Tris, my god, I'm only human." She grins, lights a fag a places it between my lips. Ah, bliss.


	26. Chapter 26 - Can't Deal, Won't Deal

Chapter Twenty Six - Can't Deal, Won't Deal

I wish I were dead. I want to run until I stop existing, just evaporate, taking all this unpleasantness with it. It's pure fantasy of course, not a bad place to go when reality sucks. I lay face down on the bed and I've been lying here for a good long while. The only thing I can manage to do right now to keep breathing and keep that large, hot and very ugly something from getting out from behind my sternum. I think it is sadness but it may be rage. I am certain that I do not want to think right now, I don't really want to breathe either but until I am certain, I must continue. Even though Four is dead. Four is dead. Dead, dead… The thought echoes around the empty chamber of my mind and I just lay here, breathing.

At some point I hear the front door open and close, Tris is home. The beast in my chest reacts very queerly and I am starting to panic. _Just keep breathing baby_, I soothe myself, _just keep breathing_. She is putting down her bag by the door, taking off her coat. She fills the kettle and puts it on to boil. I feel her approaching and it's trying to get out, _it's ok, little one, hold on_. I drag my hand to my head, it's as heavy as lead, all I can manage is to rub my scalp with my thumb, repeatedly stroking my head, _it's ok, baby, keep breathing_. It's something I haven't had the need to do for a very long time. _Just hold on, keep breathing_.

Sitting on the edge of the bed Tris takes off her boots, then she takes off mine and carefully climbs on top of me, covering my whole body with hers in a huge body hug. _Keep breathing, there's a good girl, it's going to be ok_. I would pay good money now to have her beat me to within an inch of my life, I suspect she knows this too, a sound beating would give me a different sort of pain, a more acceptable pain and anything would be better than this. Her tenderness serves to underscore this terrible, horrible feeling inside of me. All I can do is keep moving my thumb and telling myself to hold on.

She is strong now, Tris. Her body is heavy with muscle, no longer the gangly, skinny, knobbly kneed girl she was, she could have blown away in a strong gust of wind back then. She gives me all of her weight, slowly, deliberately. She is showing me she understands me, she is providing me with her strength, demonstrating that she can take care of me, that she is taking care of me. She knows one kind word, one sweet gesture and I will lose my shit. I don't think either of us really knows what that would entail but neither of us care to find out.

I can't respond, but I am grateful. I just lay there, breathing, waiting for the next thing, whatever that is, it's all I can manage. The beast is calmer after a while I notice, also I have stopped rubbing my head. Maybe that's the next thing? Well it's something. After a while Tris raises her body from mine, replaces her weight and warmth with a blanket and prepares the tea. Not knowing what I want, she places a tray with some fruit, wine, tea and tobacco on her side of the bed where I can see and reach it. Id really like to ingest some fucking strong drugs, pass out and wake up yesterday when my friend was still alive.

That was a mistake, to think of Four, to see his beautiful face. The beast is stirring but not in the same terrified and terrifying way as earlier, now it's like he is too big for his cage and wants out. I roll over ignoring the tray, I take off all my clothes while I am still lying down, I don't even push them onto the floor. I pull the sheet up over my head and lay there, unmoving, forever. After a while Tris takes the tray to the recliner and consumes the contents herself, yes even a smoke, she does that from time to time, she started out lighting mine and I guess she came to like it. I can see her in my mind, with her long legs hanging over the arm of the seat, watching the trees beyond the window, occasionally glancing over at me.

When she comes to bed she doesn't try to hold me as is our habit, she places her back against mine and tries to keep her blankets on her side. She is letting me know she is here for me, that she doesn't require anything from me, not even acknowledgement. Neither of us sleep well, she is grieving for Four as well. She knows more than I do about the circumstances and that is very likely playing on her mind too, but I just cannot go there. At some point I say "I would like his coat." I feel her hand reach around behind her and come to rest on my thigh.

I feel Tris raise herself, turn to look at me, place a kiss on my shoulder and rise from the bed. It must be morning, I don't move and the sheet is still over my head. This will be the first full day of my life without Four and I do not want it. The beast seems to roll over and press his powerful limbs against the bars of his cage, as though they might just pop out. What would he even do if he was free?

Tris takes a shower, makes me coffee and rather than heading over to the compound she begins working out on the training mats that run along the windows. She warms up, stretching her muscles in a combination of gymnastic, yoga, tai chi and whatever else mongrel moves we have introduced to our routine over time, and probably mangled. Even I notice the uncharacteristic cynical flavour of that little speech. I have to pee but I don't want to move, I want to change the sheets even less, so I go.

I have never not said good morning to Tris, never not smiled or kissed her or touched her. I do not want to start now but somehow I just can't. I am sitting there, finished, knowing that if I leave this room and walk past her without acknowledging her, it will be the first time. Wow, this really is a day of painful fucking firsts. The best I can do is stand in front of her with my eyes closed and she does the rest, thank god. She reaches up and with both hands pushes all my considerable hair back from my face, brushes her thumbs along my face and hugs me, not too tight, I can't bear to feel constrained. Then she lets me go before I feel the need to break free. Thank you, god, if there is one. I drink the coffee down in two or three gulps and climb back into bed pulling the sheet over my face.

I must have been asleep because I wake to the sound of the door clicking shut. Tris is putting down her bag and taking off her coat and I can feel her approaching to check on me. She is laying something over me, she knows I hate blankets, I don't move, the beast and I are curious but not disturbed. When I am sure she is busy, I peel the sheet down a little and see that Tris has laid Four's coat over me. I am so devastated that I can't even respond, not a cry, not a tear, not a tight little smile. A huge desolate wasteland of grief opens up inside and I wonder how I will ever contain it all. I pull it under the sheet with me and after holding it to me for a long while, I put it on, covering all three of us with the sheet; me, the coat and the beast. I wish it was an invisibility sheet, one that could hide me from the world and hide this terrible pain from me.

In the evening I slip out of bed and onto Tris' lap as she is reading in the recliner. I can't look at her and I can't speak, I curl up on her lap, bury my face in her neck and I put her hand on my head, still wearing Four's coat. Four's coat. It is all I will ever have of him, forever. I will never see him again. And it begins, the painful, lonely swell of grief. Like a tidal wave it just swells up inside of me, collecting everything in its path, swirling it all together in a huge momentous tide of emotion that can no longer be contained. It spills over my borders, washes away my boundaries, uproots everything I thought was solid and fundamental.

One moment I thought I could never cry again and then next I wondered how I would ever stop. Tris holds me loosely, her fingernails scratching my scalp, it's really lovely but it's not quite enough to comfort me, I have to snake one hand up the sleeve of Four's coat and pat my arm with my thumb, _its ok, keep breathing baby, you are doing really well, this will pass, keep breathing_. I more or less cry myself to sleep and Tris puts me to bed, coat and all and covers us with the sheet.

I feel a little better in the morning and that makes me feel worse. Yesterday I had been sucker punched and couldn't get up off the mats, today I feel like I might just swing back. The beast has been tamed, no longer in charge, no longer a threat by virtue of my presence. I am back, certainly not whole, but not as broken as I was. This morning I kissed the back of Tris' neck, I stood and took off Four's coat, on the side wall by the bed hung a picture, I removed it and on its nail, I hung Four's coat. I had a long hot shower and when I finished Tris had made coffee and was waiting for me in the recliner.


	27. Chapter 27 - Chapter 27 Part 1

Tori and Tris: Chapter Twenty Seven - A piece of me - Part One

I can't leave it alone, I won't. I keep thinking about how close we came to losing some, one, any of our Initiates last year. I had thought after the assault on Tris that the culture at Dauntless had changed, was changing, but with the murder of Four, I can't believe that it's enough. It's the thought of approaching another Peak Period, of having no safeguard against any of the above reoccuring that is really eating away at me. The injustice, the brutal persecution and oppression, but most of all that I have to do something. But what? I had been grappling with how to end the Tyranny of Dauntless, how to get back to our traditional values and what my role was in all of that. What was my responsibility and what was right to do?

And then I fell in love with Tris Prior and I wanted to believe that I could have both; an authentic Dauntless and Tris. I thought I did have it, but since the death of Four I no longer think it is possible. I am consumed with making things right, personally. And if I can't make them right through legitimate democratic means I think I am just going to kill them. All. Max, Eric, hell even fucking Jeanine Matthews, if I have to. She is banging on about Divergents like its a state crisis while ignoring the very real crisis we have right here in Dauntless. Tris, being Divergent, is no threat to anyone, let alone the state; I will protect and defend her as I would any other citizen and because she is mine.

This is changing me, I know it is. Everyday I persist is another day Tris loses the Tori she fell in love with. I bear the thought of losing her more easily than I do hurting her, but both are killing me. What choice do I have? Ok yes, I can choose not to assassinate people, that's a given. But surely I have a right to defend myself and a responsibility to defend others? Or is that the same argument used by every murdering son of a bitch, psychopathic lunatic despot? It starts with pretending I am the victim and ends with me taking over the world leaving millions of corpses, wondering why people can't see I had no choice?

I would have liked to have seen Four running the whole training program, overseeing Phases 1, 2 and 3, and final testing. He would have hand picked his trainers and assessors, those who would have ensured that training was maintained at the highest standards and that our initiates were supported. No guesses why he was taken out. I had secretly hoped, too, that we could find a way to obscure divergent results to protect Divergent members from the notice of gen pop and the admin of Chicago. Key people would look the other way because any discussion of Divergents would bring down serious Chicago flavoured heat. Then we would be fighting both the state and those who would wish to return Dauntless to its recent tyranny.

Which brings me to Eric. Always just around the corner, when he isn't watching and waiting for an opportunity, he is creating them, like Four. He wants to be top dog at Dauntless with all of us running scared every time he takes an in breath. Directly or indirectly he and his are responsible for Four, same goes for the assault on Tris and all the initiates he has and will continue to abuse and make factionless. He is obsessive in his hatred of Tris because she got out from under his thumb, avoided his plan to make her factionless and survived when he wanted her dead. He has taken it personally and I can't blame him, because I have taken his moves very fucking personally too.

Perhaps he suspects that Tris is Divergent, it's hard to know, but he cannot prove it. Any alliance between Eric and Chicago is particularly dangerous as far as Tris is concerned and that's what makes me think he hasn't yet put two and two together. But the penny could drop at any moment. These thoughts always bring me back around to that conversation I had with Tris when she asked me if I had ever considered leaving Dauntless. Back then my answer was an easy no, now things seem more complicated.

Back then I thought I understood my enemy and trusted the weapon at my disposal. This time around there are more enemies, moving battle fronts and looming alliances. There is that, but there is also this; how do I honour my pledge to defend this city and its inhabitants without defending her. Is it still an ordinary act of bravery to defend her even though it has become my heart's desire? I am still a warrior - just tell me where the fight is and I will go!

Tris can tell there is something bubbling away under the surface, she is more observant of me than usual and accepts that I am either a little more sensitive or a little less, as the case may be. I always become a little unbalanced when I'm chewing on something big. Or perhaps I am just unbalanced, a little too black and white, all or nothing. First, how do I fix Dauntless? Second, how do I defend the citizens of Chicago? Third, can I save my relationship with Tris?

Never able to hold things in too long, I finally spill my guts, as ever, Tris is unsurprised. If I am proud of one thing, it is that I have managed to hand the original Dauntless tradition to at least one initiate - Tris shares my passion for Dauntless as deeply and as fiercely as I do. She values physical and mental strength, personal integrity, bravery and defending others. I know she will tell me to do what I must and then she will let me do it.

In typical Tris style she whips off her ring and offers it back to me, when I refuse to take it she tells me to stop trying to end it before she does. Then without pausing she asks me this; If Jeanine Matthews put out a bounty on all Divergents and named Tris Prior specifically, would I leave with her if she asked me to? My answer is not immediate, and that's because it's not a question about love, we both know that I love Tris. As I sort through the answer I realise this is a question of duty - as a Dauntless cop, am I loyal to the state or it's citizens?

Too easy. Oh, she is perfect for me. I have been battling these questions for so long, and here she comes with her strategic, logical, astute mind, able to identify the core issue immediately. I see clearly now what I must do. I look up, my puzzled look fading and I see her watching me, waiting patiently for me to think my way through, confident I will come to the right conclusion. I don't even need to articulate my answer, a cop protects and serves the people first and foremost, no question. And nobody needs to tell Tris.

"Thank you, Tris," I say, feeling immensely relieved. "You can make it up to me," She says, she isn't even smiling, "All this brooding about when you could have just talked to me ages ago, withdrawing from me, this breaking up bullshit. You better believe it, Tori, you're doing some serious penance. I have really fucking missed you." I lean my forehead against hers, "I'm sorry, baby," I whisper, and I am.

I don't know who starts kissing who all I know is that we are clearly so happy to have found each other again. The only thing that matters right now is the removal of every physical barrier that prevents our physical state from reflecting our emotional connection. Complete. When we are naked and stretched out in each others embrace, touching from toes all the way through to our fingers and faces, having hardly drawn a breath, we pause and look into each others eyes. The penny drops. "Jeanine Matthews put out a bounty on all Divergents and named you specifically."

"Stay with me, Tori, you and me, right now, just stay here, with me, please, Tori," she pleads. I haven't moved, I haven't even breathed but my head is a mess. I keep pushing the thoughts back, fighting to stay present, to stay connected, to feel her kisses even though I feel a million miles away. She keeps saying my name, trying to maintain our connection and I keep batting away thoughts, fighting my way to the sound of her voice. I have to kiss her back with my eyes open and finally I manage to clear my mind, I can hear her, I can see her. Where I can feel the pads of her fingers kneading my skin, I turn her fingers so that her nails are making contact, I need to really feel her.


	28. Chapter 28 - Chapter 27 Part 2

Tori and Tris: Chapter Twenty Seven - A piece of me - Part Two

It had been awhile since we had made love in a way that was as satisfying to our souls as to our bodies, so we made sure, several times, to get it right. Although we were pretty worn out we were not at all tired. Tris gets the alcohol and I get the tobacco, we are scheming now. "When?" I ask, having wandered around with my head up my ass for days, I wonder what else I have missed. "Today, my name hasn't been announced yet but I have it on good authority that that it will be," she replies. "Eric?" I ask, she replies "You know it."

"Do you think it is possible that you and I can garner enough support here at Dauntless to hold off Chicago?" I ask her. Tris doesn't answer that question but says, "When I asked if you would leave, it wasn't a trap, you're not obligated, Tori." I am shaking my head, "We just got through all of that, Tris, I don't think you want to trap me, I have made my decision and I am good with it. But before we go, we should be sure to exhaust all of our options."

"We should liquidate our stock, pack a bug out bag, choose a meet up point in case we get separated. Should I signal Luka, now? We should take Eric down, for us and for Dauntless." I don't say for Four, but it's out there. "Ok, let's take a breath." Tris smoothes my hair back, "Jeanine isn't coming here to get me, she is waiting for someone to bring me to her, that gives us some time. Now, we would be asking Dauntless not only to choose between us and Eric but between us and Eric and Chicago. I don't like our chances, Tori, but I am willing to try."

Under cover or early morning darkness Tris and I make our way onto the roof, stash 2 bags holding valuable trading stock and contraband; medication, drugs, alcohol, weapons in the power box. We silently climb over the side of the building concealed by trees, making our way down until we can get into the tree itself so that when we reach the ground we will be far away from any eyes trained on our apartment and the building.

Of course we hope not to be seen but from this point on we consider ourselves liquidated. We run steadily and stealthily through Dauntless toward the forest between our faction and the fence, we won't be safe on trains or anywhere we can be seen. When we get reasonably deep, I run straight up the trunk of a tree, pushing off I reach for and grab hold of a good branch and haul myself up a little way. I pull a little net from my pocket and lay my bug out bag in it, Tris tosses hers up to me and then begins obscuring our tracks, backing away. I wrap the two packs together in the net, cover them with some greenery, then taking a sturdy branch, I swing out of the tree, landing as far away from the trunk as I can.

Tris and I jog back a roundabout direction and as we head back into Dauntless we split up. Time is short, I wake some people up, first, someone from my cohort. I tell her what she needs to know and what I need from her, her support is immediate and unequivocal. Next, a black market contact, again what he needs to know, his assurance is dependable. There is someone from the alliance I can trus, I tell him what I need and he gets his people together.

Sitting with my cohort at breakfast we are all pensive, when I am sure that the mess is at capacity and I climb up onto the table and address my faction. I speak for a minute or two when Eric steps forward, arms out, palms up, this is his moment, he is smiling like he cant believe how easy we have made it for him. "So Tori wants the faction of Dauntless, wants you all, to turn our back, go rogue, on Chicago, who we promised to protect and defend, because her girlfriend is a criminal?"

Before he can continue, Tris stands on her seat, surrounded by her cohort, she speaks, "It is true, I am Divergent, but I am no criminal." Every eye in Dauntless is on Tris, "They say Factionless don't fit into any faction and Divergent fit into too many - if that is true that indicates that we have at least seven factions, not five. You all have to work out what you think that means, but in the meantime, Eric is right, Dauntless did promise to protect Chicago and its inhabitants. But Chicago is not under attack - its inhabitants are."

"We were asked to commit ordinary acts of bravery, and to embody the courage that drives one person to stand up for another. Eric, you are a bully and a coward. You introduced unnecessary rule changes that cuts initiates cut for your own sense of power. You subjected initiates to brutal beatings in Fight Club. You hung Christina over the chasm when she asked for mercy," Here Christine stood up, silently staring at Eric, Tris pushed on, "You forced Al to stand in front of a team of knife throwers." Will stood, next to Christina, remembering that day and that Al was no longer able to stand for himself. "You shot Molly with a neuro stim dart," Now Molly stands up too, "You held a gun to Four's head when he was under simulation during a training exercise in Abnegation." A few of Four's closest friends stand because he is no longer here to stand up for himself.

Eric begins to see the writing on the wall and starts to back up, but he finds his way barred by a silent wall of Alliance members, standing shoulder to shoulder. I pick up the mantle, "Eric, you are a threat to Dauntless and you have colluded with Jeanine Matthews against your own faction." Eric laughs loudly, "Where's the proof?" I continue, "He told us that they were tracking devices," I say, pointing to a fresh cut on my neck where Tris and I removed our trackers overnight, "But that's a lie, Jeanine, Max and Eric have implanted us with neuro-transmitters, we can be controlled directly by Jeanine, bypassing Dauntless command procedures. Eric has offered us up as remote controllable soldiers, not in defence of Chicago but on behalf of Chicago against its citizens. Like Divergents who have been accused of no crime and are suspected of no wrongdoing." Eric and Max find themselves quietly restrained.

I look around, "We have all failed to engage in the ordinary acts of bravery that would have put a stop to Eric and people have paid for it with their lives. Tris. Four. Yesterday it was Eric's war on the vulnerable, today it is Jeanine's attack on Divergents, who will be next?" Peter, keen to keep his alliance options open, stands to ask "What exactly do you want from us?" His framing of the question underscores the notion that there is an us and them, luckily for me Tris has a wider field of vision, "We are leaving," she says, stepping down from her table and moves in my direction, I too step down.

Eric arcs up, "No, no, there's a bounty on her, Jeanine wants her. She's Divergent, she's a danger to the whole faction system." He is pulling against the hands that hold him tightly. I take her hand when she reaches me, "We are leaving. Check out your trackers and see who is telling the truth. If you decide as a faction you want to be truly dauntless, if you want us back, if you can protect us from Max, Eric, Jeanine, maybe Peter here, you let us know and we will come home."

As we start moving through the room, urgent discussion breaks out - could it be true about the transmitters? If there is a bounty should Tris be allowed to leave? Eric is frothing at the mouth, straining at the hands that bind him, he is screaming "She is Divergent, she is Divergent." As we pass through the room I pause before him and run my fingers across his neck, someone from behind pulls his head back by the hair so I can have access, I am looking for the chip I know is not there. Aloud I say "No chip?" and more quietly I say "You bit the wrong beast, don't choke." Tris and I are flanked by our brothers and sisters, no one stands with Eric, they have known him too long and too well to doubt the truth of our claims.

We are escorted safely out of the building through the compound, as we are embraced we thank our cohorts for their faith in us, for their dauntlessness. They assure us that we will be home again soon and hand us our bags as arranged, we slipped them on and ran.


	29. Chapter 29 - Chapter 27 Point Two - Smut

Chapter Twenty Seven Point Two More Smut

We are naked, stretched out in each other's embrace, touching from toes all the way through to our faces, we look into each other's eyes. The penny drops. "Jeanine Matthews put out a bounty on all Divergents and named you specifically." I say, I haven't moved but my head is a mess. Tris, is calling me, keeps saying my name, trying to regain our connection. "Stay with me, Tori, you and me, right now, darling, just stay here, with me, please, Tori," she pleads.

"I'm here," I finally manage to say, "I'm here." She presses her forehead to mine. "Don't leave me," she says, "I'm here, baby," I hold her tightly, wrapping my arms and legs around her whole body. "Love me," she says. I kiss her deeply, sliding my flat palms slowly and firmly down from her shoulders, pushing her into me all the way, down her back to her ass. I tilt her pelvis forward so that her pussy hovers just above mine, I push up so that only my clit touches her clit. I drag mine from the bottom to the top of hers, coating her with my juices and slide slowly down again. A few hundred times - I don't know, who's counting?

It's such a subtle, intimate movement, it produces a powerful physical response and serves to connect us deeply. It also generates one of those orgasms that one is rather holding off than chasing down. "Can you hear me?" she asks. "I hear you." "Can you see me?" she asks. "I see you, my beautiful girl." "I love you, Tori." "I love you." I can feel her too, I can feel her clit harden, I know she is enjoying holding off, being in this moment together. I also know that she loves when I whisper things into her ear that she still finds confronting, that shocks the Abnegation out of her.

I change nothing else about the I am moving so softly against her, only the shift of my lips to ear "I want you to come for me," it never fails to fuck her up and she cries out. She holds off with every ounce of determination she can muster, "Say it again," she begs, "Come with me, right now, all over my pussy," and she does. I feel the reaction in her clit as it pulses for a long moment and then begins to melt back into its shell, the confirmation of her orgasm is so exciting to me that I immediately let go and welcome my own.

When Tris is sure I can handle the contact she rests against me, still wrapped up by my arms and legs, "I love you so much, Tris," I kiss her all over her face and rock our bodies from side to side, it's not a sexual movement rather comforting, a little playful. We are so relieved to be on the other side of this difficult period, to have found each other again, we want to hold on to this moment and never let go.

It's so funny to think that our difficult moments consist of me wandering around for days on end with my head up my ass - we don't fight, there's no nagging, no shouting. Triss having sworn when she told me she missed me is the strongest language she has used directly to me that has not been in the throes of passion. Oh she was pissed, to be sure, I don't mistake that for a moment, and rightfully so, but she doesn't behave in anger. I am only too grateful to be required to do penance and I start immediately.

I roll over her until she is on her back underneath me, I push her legs open by firmly placing my foot on the inside of one knee and pining it to the bed and shift the other leg with my knee, trapping it with my elbow. She knows what is coming and that in itself puts her excitement into full throttle, I drive two fingers inside her, not hard or fast, she doesn't enjoy it like that, but she gets turned on when I demonstrate how well I know her, how well I understand her body and how thoroughly I can pleasure her.

She wants to raise her legs in response to the stimulation she is enjoying but she is in no position, I kiss her mouth and she wraps her arms around my neck. I run my hand over her breast squeezing it on the way up and and releasing on the way down, I match this by pushing inside her on the way down and sliding out on the way up. I could do this all day long, watching her, listening to her, feeling her - I could as well be doing this to myself as to her. She is so beautiful, her spirit is so dauntless, I love her so much.

"Darling, can you use it?" She wants me to use the double ended dildo but she just can't bring herself to use its name. She has come a long way from that shy girl who nearly bolted when she accidentally saw my breasts, it took her awhile to be able to walk naked from our bed to the bathroom. I think my Erudite exposure taught me that bodies were bodies with functional parts, those parts had names and while we are all a little different we are all the same. I think Tris would have held on to her prudishness longer if not for her dauntlessness. I mean, it's hard to ask for what you want, but she wanted things, she wanted to experience things, with me and that requires communication and she really busted her boundaries. I couldn't be more proud of her or feel more honoured to be part of her experience.

I reach under the bed and find what she wants, "You want to give or receive?" I ask, it's neither here nor there, truly, we're both about to receive something pretty awesome, I just want to know which position she wants right now. She moves to her hands and knees, turns her back on me and lays her head on the bed. Her ass lifts and she is so sexy it's unreal, she knows the effect she has on me too. I push one end inside me and with my thumb at the base of the other I push it down so she can take it rather than me giving it to her. She always likes to do it herself until she knows for sure what she is getting, she is so wet but still she takes it little by little, in and out, while I rub my hands all over her skin, her ass, her thighs, her back.

When she has taken it all the way and is ready she will put her hands behind my knees and stop moving and I will start. Every movement on her end, of course, causes friction on mine, it's smaller than my favourite but I can't be sure I would be able to think of her quite as much if that was inside me. Better this way - especially for penance. I fuck her slowly, quickly, deeply, to the front, with a circular motion, you name it, she comes several times and her body is almost fried when she tells me to wait, she falls forward, but determinedly rolls to her back, she holds out her arms.

I know what she wants, I haul her up to straddle my knees she falls against me, arms over my shoulders and I give it to her slowly, evenly, not too deep. She can't come anymore now, but neither can she stop, she just wants to be pressed against my body, feeling me move inside her until she can no longer bear any friction at all. I love the feel of her in my arms, her hair in my face, the smell of her skin, the salty taste of her. I love the closeness, the full skin contact. She is such a beautiful person, such a wonderful human being, I can't say how good it is to love and be loved by her.

From out of nowhere, Tris gets a second wind, using her feet she increases the depth and speed of penetration, I am surprised but not at all troubled. She looks into my eyes and kisses me, "Touch my breasts," she bosses me about, and it's a pleasure. I don't know where this is coming from but all of a sudden she is pounding the life out of that piece of latex, and by proxy giving me one hell of a good showing as well. I hope that piece of equipment its fire retardant because the friction she is causing - or extracting - I don't know which, is really quite something. If I should be reduced to ashes I can only consider it a mighty fine way to go. She cries out, her voice hoarse, I feel her juices splash onto my legs and Tris launches herself backwards, off of the dildo, off of me and onto the bed.

I tug it and it pops out of me, I toss it onto the floor toward the bathroom, where one of us will pick it up, one of us will take it into the shower, one of us will wash it. Her body is hot, heavy, exhausted, spent and far too sensitive to be jostled about so I lie down behind her and lay an arm across her waist. When her heart beat returns to a less erratic pace and she can breathe almost normally I ask her if she wants water. It takes her a whole minute to nod, I drop a little kiss on her head and extract myself carefully, I bring back water, juice, some chocolate from the pillowcase and a damp face washer.

I wipe her face and her neck and spread it out on her chest so she can use it or not. She drinks all the water, all the juice straight up and takes a big bite of chocolate. I am surprised again when she offers me a bite of the end sticking out of her mouth. I'd have thought she was done. DONE. Taking that bite is to invite a very chocolatey kiss which ends up a sweet sticky mess all over my mouth, my face, my neck. I don't know where she is getting the stamina but I'm not complaining, she kisses me all over my body, in half an hour or however long - who cares, there isn't an inch of skin that she hasn't kissed, licked, tongued, nibbled, except for the couple of square inches that now wants it the most.

While she has her tongue in my mouth she is tying her hair back and I think I know what this signals. If I am right I have to question Tris's thinking - which is something I have never had to do. If I am doing penance for behaviour she hopes to eradicate, this is not the way to reinforce that particular outcome. Tris gives me that look - the one that brings me undone, the one that says that she knows that I am about to get seriously fucked up and she will be the one doing it. The power of that look is dangerous.

She pushes me down on to my back and from the moment she swings a leg over my head, well from here on out it's me fighting every damn moment not to come. She leans forward, I can feel her breath on me, she slides her tongue along my clit, from the top, right down to my soaked opening and back up the other side. This move has also signalled to me that Tris thinks she has at least one more clitoral orgasm in her and that is too fucking exciting. She is withholding her body so that she can pleasure me, I can't help but look at her as I run my hands all over her skin as far as I can reach. I have to think about something because if I think about what she is doing to me right now it's going to be curtains.

She covers my vulva entirely, drawing all of me into her mouth, sucking on my labia and applying pressure to my clit with her whole tongue. It runs back and forward, from top to bottom and it doesn't take long before I am moaning, moving beneath her and scratching her back with my nails, she knows I am ready so she settles herself over my face and when I orientate myself, her pace matches mine, her moans fill the space between my own. I change the motion of my hips from up and down to circular as I grind out the first waves of my orgasm. I become momentarily stupid, my tongue fails to respond to auto pilot commands so Tris simply presses into me and finds my tongue herself, by the time her orgasm begins I have regained control and help her through hers. When she has given me all she has to give, she rolls off of my body and we lay there head to toe, staring at the ceiling and holding hands.

Every so often I graze her hand with my thumb or she will squeeze my fingers with her own. Eventually she sits up and says, "We need to talk. Wine, beer or spirits?" I roll over and grab the tobacco. Now that Tris and I know exactly where we stand with each other - we need to make plans for every other motherfucker in Chicago.


End file.
